The Path Forward
by ShannonSto
Summary: An alternate scenario post 7-14 that largely ignores 7-15 and 7-16. War is coming, communities are uniting, and Carol has some damage control to do. Caryl, of course.
1. Apologies

_**The Path Forward**_

 **Summary: An alternate scenario post 7-14 that ignores most of 7-15 and 7-16. War is coming, communities are uniting, and Carol has some damage control to do. Caryl, of course. Thanks for reading. Please drop me a review, good or bad, as feedback is always good.**

 **Spoilers: Everything that's aired in the U.S. is fair game.**

 **Disclaimer: None of it is mine.**

Approaching the gate of Alexandria struck Carol with conflicting emotions. She'd only been gone two weeks, and yet, somehow, she felt like a visitor, as though she didn't have a right to be there. Just four days ago, when talking to Daryl, she referred to it as 'home.' But now, having to face the loved ones she'd left behind without so much as a goodbye, her nerves were jangled.

Once before, when she'd left the group, they had been attacked, and she'd always wondered if it would have played out differently if she'd been there to help defend the prison. To be fair, though, that time she hadn't left of her own will and volition. If she'd had her choice, she would have been there fighting alongside her family. This time, she had left by her own choice, and once again, they'd been attacked. She'd seen it coming this time. She hadn't known exactly what or when, but the sense of impending doom was crushing her. And now it was confirmed. Glenn was dead. Glenn and Abraham. She had the sense that something pretty awful had happened to Daryl, too, based upon his demeanor that day. He was like a ghost, a shadow of himself, when he lied and told her everything was fine.

She and Daryl had left many things unsaid; their story was definitely unfinished, and she looked forward to seeing him despite the difficult circumstances. She knew how she wanted the next chapter to read. The soul searching she had done after his departure made up her mind. She had always known she loved him, but now she knew _he_ loved _her_. She also knew now that he needed her. He was clearly in distress and she hadn't been there for him. Well, no more. From this day forward, she would always be there for him.

The approach of the army from the Kingdom quickly drew a flurry of activity from within the walls of Alexandria. Scott was manning the watch tower. _Scott_? What the hell was Rick thinking? Well, she supposed, his number of better choices had dwindled. But still, what about Sasha? Maggie? Rosita? Hell, even Eugene was a better option. But Scott it was, and he immediately called for back up. Soon the gate creaked open, revealing Rick pulling on it.

He rushed out, briefly hugging Carol and Morgan on his way to greet Ezekiel.

"Oh my God, you guys came! We didn't expect you. We're unbelievably grateful, just surprised."

"There was an incident at the Kingdom," the King explained. "It became clear that we do indeed need to halt the tyranny of Negan to ensure peace and security for all of our peoples."

"I'm sorry you had some trouble," Rick acknowledged. "But I'm glad you're here. Come in."

Thirty minutes later, Carol sat quietly listening to Rick and Ezekiel debate plans to take on the Saviors. He assured them that a group from the Hilltop would join them, as well as another community Rick found led by someone named Jadis. They would put all the pieces in place over the next few days, then they would take the fight to the Sanctuary, which, as Carol understood it, was the home base of the evil doers.

Truth be told, she was only half-listening. The other half of her attention was focused on watching the comings and going of the curious Alexandrians, scanning the faces for a familiar redneck biker. But he didn't appear.

After the meeting broke up, Rick made arrangements to house the entourage from the Kingdom. Carol decided it was a good time to take her leave and find the people and information she needed. She found a very angry looking Rosita sitting on a curb. Angry at whom? Or what? Carol? Negan? Life? Time to begin her apology tour.

"Hi," Carol said as she stopped before the young woman.

"What? You're one of _them_ now? It's hard to guess what side you're on."

"That's not really fair," Carol told her softly and sat down.

"Really? Where were you?"

"I had to get away. For personal reasons. Let me ask you something. Would it have gone down any differently if I were there?"

"No," Rosita conceded, softening a bit. "They'd still be dead. Daryl would still be in hiding. Maggie, too."

"They're in hiding? From the Saviors?"

"You don't know what happened?"

"All I know is that Negan killed Abraham, Glenn, Spencer and Olivia. I didn't get any details."

"So whoever told you that didn't tell you anything about Daryl, even though you guys have a…" her voice trailed off as though she thought better of finishing that sentence.

"Tell me," Carol prodded. "Please, Rosita."

Rosita's eyes filled with rage again, increasing with each word she uttered.

"It was the day you took off. I was out at the gate, and Daryl went buzzing by on his bike. He didn't say where he was going, but we knew he was going to hunt for Dwight. He probably would've gone hunting you, but we didn't know yet that you were gone. We went after him. Me, Glenn and Michonne. We thought we'd need him here in case the Saviors attacked. Rick didn't want anyone to leave."

"We caught up to him in the woods by the tracks where Denise was killed. Glenn and Michonne did their best to talk him down. No dice. And you know, I thought he was right. I was so pissed that that shit head killed Denise right in front of us, when we were supposed to be there to protect her. So I understood why he needed to set things right, and I went with him while the others went back."

"After a while, Daryl doubled back. Said something smelled fishy. He was right again. Through a break in the trees, we saw Glenn and Michonne bound and gagged. If I ever get the chance, I'm gonna make him give me tracking lessons so I can learn the kinds of things like what tipped him off, how he knew something was up. How he knew we were following him. He's really damn good at it."

"Turns out Glenn and Michonne were just bait. We heard the whistle before we even got close. We were surrounded. Dwight came up behind Daryl. He was lowering his weapon. We were totally cooperating. And still that bastard shot him in the chest. Point blank." She placed a hand over the spot on her chest that corresponded to where Carol had noticed a bandage on Daryl.

Rosita went on to relay the entire nightmarish story to her friend, sparing no details no matter how ugly or painful. So Maggie was hiding out at the Hilltop. Daryl went to Hilltop after he left the Kingdom, but was now 'in the wind' as Rosita phrased it. Sasha was likely a prisoner of the Saviors. And Eugene had been taken, and had refused assistance when it was offered to him.

Rosita, for her part, had gone with Sasha to the Sanctuary but returned home when she couldn't gain egress. The unbridled rage glistening in her eyes was startling, but Carol knew it was rooted in pain and frustration and grief. Abraham may have dumped her like yesterday's garbage, but she still loved him. Love doesn't come with a switch you can flip on and off at will.

Carol sat on the curb after Rosita left, her mind reeling. Everything Rosita told her swirled around her like a tornado, threatening to carry her away. The guilt and grief he must be feeling over Glenn's death broke her heart. Daryl wasn't responsible for what happened, but she knew him well enough to know that he blamed himself. And then to be taken away, imprisoned, tortured…she tried to block the images from her mind. Finally, after all of that crap, he'd had to learn of her flight.

Now it was her turn to feel guilty. She hadn't been there for him when he needed her most. And that was going to eat away at her for a long, long time.

She found her house exactly as she'd left it, minus the mattress of course. Bastards.

Heading back down the stairs, she ran smack into Carl.

"Hey," the boy said. "I'm glad you're back."

"Me, too," she smiled. "I missed you."

"My dad asked me to see if we can use your three spare rooms for the guests."

"You can use all of them, including the master," she replied.

"What-you're not staying?"

"I'm coming back. I just have something I need to do."

"Oh, ok."

She walked past him and he called after her.

"Carol?"

"Yes?"

"You're going to find Daryl, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Good."

( )

Daryl sat on a log devouring the afternoon meal. Today, it consisted of squirrel and grub. He found himself reminiscing about the wholesome, varied meals he'd enjoyed during his time at Alexandria and chastised himself. _You're going soft, Dixon. You'll eat what's available and you'll like it. Period._ No way could he even begin to allow himself to think about whatever the hell that stew was that Carol made for him.

Seeing her had both given him clarity and broken his heart. She seemed so fragile, so…broken. He'd only seen her like that a couple of times before; once, when she'd asked him to give up his search for Sophia rather than risk his life again for what she was beginning to believe was a lost cause. Then again after Terminus, and throughout their trip to Atlanta to find Beth. That one was a little different, though, he told himself, because then she'd been suppressing her feelings. She'd been so flat, emotionless, haunted. He'd shut her down when she tried to tell him something about those little girls. He thought at the time that he was doing her a favor by not pushing her to talk about something that was obviously painful for her. Now he wasn't so sure. Perhaps she had _needed_ to talk about it, and he had missed an opportunity to help her. This time, she was openly telling him she couldn't cope with the horrors of the new world. She sobbed, begging him to tell her that everything was coming up roses. And so he had.

He lied to her. The conflict raged within him for several long moments before the words spilled out. He wanted so much to take her home with him, to be near her. To have her around for the battle that was to come. But, clearly, that was not what was in her best interest. He simply could not do that to her. He chose between her soul and Negan's head on a platter. When he thought about it that way, the answer had been obvious, and the lie had rolled out of his mouth.

The idea of staying with her, if she would have him, had raced across his mind in those waning moments on her doorstep, but he had to reject it out of hand. If he stayed, the truth would loom larger and larger until it finally escaped. Daryl was simply too straightforward to maintain a deception with Carol. Then there were safety issues to consider. The Saviors had no knowledge of her, but if they should come across her house by chance and find him there they would force him to watch her die. No more members of the family were going to die because of him, especially not Carol.

And so he left her, against the will of every fiber of his being. He wouldn't stay at the Kingdom. Though the 'king' had been kind to offer him asylum, he found all of the royalty and pageantry to be, well, ridiculous. He had no patience for that sort of foolishness. Not to mention the fact that being so close to Carol and not being able to see her or talk to her would be too difficult.

He would go back to Hilltop. Maybe he could be useful there with the preparations for war. That seemed like the best way to help Carol right now; if he could make the world safer, she wouldn't have to kill or fight or worry. Maybe then she could have the peace of mind she so richly deserved.

Daryl wasn't a stupid man; he fully recognized the folly of that line of thinking. After all, there had been a time not so long ago when they thought _walkers_ were the biggest threat. Then along came the Governor. After that, they'd stumbled headlong into Terminus. It all ran together in a blur. The Governor, Joe, Terminus, Grady, the Wolves and now the Saviors. And when the Saviors were extinguished, someone else would come along to threaten them.

He reckoned he'd been fighting for all of his nearly fifty years. And he was tired of fighting. But it was what he knew, and he was good at it. Moreover, they needed him. His family needed him, and he would not let them down. So he would just keep fighting.

He would win this for Carol, to help her feel peace. For Rick, for all the faith and trust the man had placed in him. For Maggie, for the kindness and forgiveness she showed him. For Glenn, for the friendship, and for the brilliant light he'd shone in an ugly world. For Rosita, to help her avenge Abraham and assuage her own guilt over Olivia's death. For Aaron, for the acceptance and welcoming he'd given him. And for Sasha and Michonne and Carl and Tara and Abraham and Denise and the Li'l Asskicker. And, hell, even for Gabriel and Eugene. They were his family, not by birth but by circumstance, and he loved them all dearly.

The decision to leave Hilltop was based on safety concerns. The Saviors had come for some other reason, but had nearly discovered him and Maggie. Had he been found there, innocent people would have paid the price. He couldn't stomach that notion. So he'd taken to the woods, close enough to keep tabs on everything, but far enough away that if he were captured, no one else had to die. When the war began, he would go rejoin the others and take his place alongside them.

Dammit! There just wasn't enough meat on a squirrel to be more than a snack. He'd have to make up the difference with the grubs. As he scouted the ground for telltale signs of the little suckers, he heard a faint sound that made his hair stand on end. Suddenly at full alert, he ducked behind a large tree and waited for the pursuer to get close. When he knew it was close enough, he stepped out and aimed his crossbow at the intruder's face.

"Why you followin' me, asshole?!" He shouted.


	2. Go Back

Carol wasn't even sure where to begin looking for Daryl. She didn't want to break it to Rosita, but she _had_ learned a lot about tracking from him. But still she needed a trail, and she didn't even have a starting point. She knew he left from Hilltop, so she supposed she should go there first. She got directions from Carl and arrived without incident.

"Carol?" A familiar voice called down from the watch tower. "Oh my God, it _is_ you!"

The gate swung open as Maggie made her way down the ladder. She threw her arms around Carol with a warm smile.

"Where've you been? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Oh, Maggie, I'm so sorry," Carol didn't even try to stop the tears. "Are you okay?"

Maggie nodded as her own eyes welled. "I have good days and bad days, but I'm hanging in there."

"The baby's good?"

"The baby's great."

"Thank God."

"I'm not trying to get rid of you," Maggie said, "but have you seen Daryl? He could use a friend right about now."

"I came here hoping to find a trail."

"He's really blaming himself for what happened to Glenn. I told him it's not his fault, but you know how he is…"

"Yeah." That, she did. Daryl had a tendency to take it upon himself anytime anything went awry, so, this time, when he actually had made a mistake, the self-recrimination must be destroying him.

"He went out through the back gate. Come on, I'll show you."

As she passed through the main courtyard, Carol couldn't help but be impressed with Hilltop. They seemed to live simply, but well. It struck her how everyone seemed to know and like Maggie, though she'd only been there a couple of weeks. Hershel would be so, so proud of her and the way she was conducting herself.

"Are you going to find out the sex? Or wait and be surprised?"

"I don't know," Maggie responded. "One day I think I wanna know, the next I think I wanna wait. Unfortunately, they came and took Dr. Carson, so I don't have anyone to read the sonogram anyway.."

"Who took him? The Saviors?"

"Who else? Oh my god, they came soooo close to finding Daryl and me. What about you, when you had your daughter, did you find out?"

"I wanted to know. It was driving me crazy." Carol refrained from telling Maggie that Ed had beaten her up the night before she was scheduled to have her ultrasound, so she ended up skipping it to avoid having to explain the bruises.

Outside the back gate, they scoured the earth for any trace of Daryl's footprints. Maggie assured her that almost no one used the back, so if they found a print it would most likely belong to Daryl. And if he were wearing the boots that Carol figured he likely was, she would know the pattern the moment she saw it.

Her confidence was short-lived.

"Jesus found him some boots that fit in our storeroom," Maggie said. Carol was so disappointed to learn of the new boots that she didn't even notice Maggie's use of 'our' to describe Hilltop. "They took his clothes and everything at the Sanctuary, so when he escaped he just grabbed whatever came close to fitting."

Well, footprints were still all they had to go on, so they continued their hunt for a needle in a haystack.

Pay dirt! There was a faint impression in the dirt. They couldn't know for sure if it was left by Daryl, but it was all they had so Carol resolved to follow it.

"When you find him, come back so we can catch up," Maggie suggested warmly.

"It's a date."

( )

She followed the trail through the fields into the woods beyond. There it became far more difficult thanks to all the leaf litter and such. But she persisted, and was able to find enough clues to keep going in what she believed was the right direction.

She hadn't taken much time to ponder what she was going to do—or what she was going to say—when she found him. She would cross that bridge when she came to it. She'd always been good at handling Daryl, it was herself she was struggling with.

She trudged on for what felt like miles, stopping for lunch near a stream. It wasn't long after the meal that something caught her ear. She moved forward cautiously, rifle at her shoulder. Suddenly, she found herself staring at the tip of an arrow pointed at her face.

"Why you followin' me, asshole?!" A familiar voice rasped.

As the grin spread across her face, she lowered the rifle. The crossbow immediately dropped as well.

"What the hell are you doin' here? I coulda killed ya!"

"Looking for you."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to find you?"

"Stop," he barked, intent on letting her know he was in no mood for joking. "You shouldn't be here. It ain't safe. If the Saviors find us…"

"We'll deal with it."

"Go back."

"No. I need to talk to you, and I'm gonna."

"Go back to your cabin. They don't know about you. You ain't even on their radar. Let's keep it that way." He paced angrily, then turned back to her. "Who the hell told you, anyway?"

"Morgan."

Morgan?! That didn't make any sense. Morgan was grateful to him for not telling her about Glenn and Abe.

"What the? He told me he was glad that I didn't say nothin'."

"I went to him in the morning. The denial wore off and I wanted to know the truth. But he wouldn't tell me. Then the very next day, the Saviors came to the Kingdom for a pickup and it was one cantaloupe short, so they shot a fifteen year old kid. They killed him. Over one damn cantaloupe. Kid bled out on my kitchen table. Morgan snapped. He killed the man who intentionally misplaced the melon and he told me who Negan killed. I didn't know any of the details, or anything about what they did to you, until I got home and talked to Rosita."

Daryl shook his head. The cat was out of the bag, but he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"Dammit, Morgan…" he muttered.

"You should know that Ezekiel brought his army to Alexandria. He agrees now that the Saviors have to be stopped. So we have the numbers now. He and Rick are working on a plan."

"Well that's somethin' anyway. But if Rosita told you everything, then you know they're huntin' me. Anyone near me is in danger. You gotta go back."

"I can't. I won't."

"A few days ago you didn't have no problem with never seein' any of us again. Never knowin' what the hell ever happened to us. You need to go back to that—for your own good. Ya got out just in time. But now you are out. Stay out."

His harshness hurt her, but she knew she had to stand her ground. She stepped closer to him.

"Are you gonna make me? Would you rather I be with you where you can keep an eye on me, or trailing you from a distance?" She hoped a different approach would do the trick.

Daryl ran an exasperated hand over his jaw. She was right, there wasn't much he could do if she simply refused to return to her cabin. He swung his crossbow back over his shoulder, picked up his pack and stormed off. They both knew she had won this one as she stayed just a yard or so behind him.

"Mind if I ask where we're going?" Carol asked. The sun was beginning to sink behind the trees.

To her surprise, his voice was without anger.

"I just been goin' back and forth between Hilltop and home so I don't miss nothin'."

"We're headed toward Hilltop now."

"Mm hmm."

"Daryl, stop for a second."

As though he hadn't heard her, he continued walking.

"Daryl, stop!"

Resigning, he did as directed and waited while she caught up to him.

"You don't have to stay out here," she informed him. "The Saviors won't be setting foot in Alexandria. There's a full army there now. You can go home."

"And do what?"

"Get ready. Eat. Sleep. Get familiar with the people you're going to be fighting next to. Just be home."

"That guy Richard, he come with you?"

"Richard? How do you know Richard?"

"Met him when I was up there. He gave me this crossbow."

"Oh, uh, Richard's dead. Morgan killed him."

"He's the one that shorted that pickup," he said, putting two and two together. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "He got that kid killed. I got that kid killed. Son of a bitch, the fucker actually went through with it!"

"Okay, rewind about ten seconds."

"He was desperate to get Ezekiel to agree to fight. He told me about his plan to make it happen. I put the brakes on his first plan, so he musta come up with another one. Damn. I shoulda tipped off Morgan what he was up to. But I thought it was handled."

"The general opinion is that he was shocked when they shot Benjamin. He expected it would be him."

 _"I would die for the Kingdom," Richard declared sadly._

 _"Why don't you?" Daryl hissed._

He had been very sympathetic to the man's position, after all, it matched his own, but at that moment, all Daryl could process was the immediate need to protect Carol. In doing so, he had inadvertently steered Richard down a different disastrous path.

"Yeah, self-sacrifice don't work with the Saviors. I learned that one the hard way. Good thing Morgan wasn't around _then_."

He resumed his trek through the woods.

"I'll go back home tomorrow."

Success, Carol thought with a brief smile.

An hour later, he stopped and dropped his pack.

"Make camp here tonight," he explained.

They hadn't been on the road together in quite a while, but still they worked like a well-oiled machine setting up camp, communicating largely without words. After supper, they sat staring into the fire.

"So how you doin'?" Daryl finally dared to ask.

His question was nonspecific, but she knew exactly what he meant.

"I'm better," she said decisively.

"How? It's only been a few days. What changed?"

"Everything." _Me. You. Us. I know what_ _I want now. I know what I need_. The answers rolled through her mind, but she just couldn't form them into words that would make any sense. She turned to see him looking at her as though she'd sprouted a second head.

"When you dropped by," she elaborated, "it set off this whole long chain of feelings and realizations…"

"You saw me every day before. It didn't give you no epiphanies."

"I think it was the absence. It hit me when I saw you how much I missed you. How much I needed you. It was like crawling through the desert and being handed a glass of water."

Daryl was trying his best to follow, but his frustration was growing.

"Ya _chose_ the damn desert!"

"I know. I thought it was what I needed. But it wasn't."

"I'm sorry," he said sadly. "I'm tryin'. I am. But I need to know what happens when this war is over. Or whenever things go sideways again. Do you disappear again? 'Cause the same damn issues is still gonna be there. People always gonna be tryin' to take our shit, tryin' to hurt us. And we're always gonna hafta do something about it."

"That's what I said in my note," she said with surprise.

"I didn't see no damn note," he told her. "Was it for me, or just one size fits all?"

At first, she found his question, as well as his accusatory tone, confusing. She'd thought she explained herself pretty well in that note. Then it began to dawn on her. She had, indeed, drafted a single generic statement, as if Daryl deserved no more explanation or consideration than Olivia or Scott. As if he meant nothing more to her than any of the rest of them. Damn, she had seriously fucked up.

"If I had come to you to tell you I was leaving, you would have talked me out of it."

"I woulda tried."

"And I wouldn't have been able to say 'no' to you. And I've would've kept falling further and further into the abyss."

"You don't think we coulda found a way to fix it?"

"We didn't before."

"I didn't have no idea what the problem was before. You just pulled away, didn't talk to me. You just took off like everything we been through together didn't mean nothin' at all to you." He struggled to maintain his composure, but choked up anyway. "Well, it meant somethin' to me."

"It meant _everything_ to me," she argued.

"I ain't tryin' to be harsh. I ain't. But maybe if you and me woulda just been honest with each other all along, we wouldn't be in the state we're in now."

"I'm trying to figure out exactly what state that is," she admitted through her tears. "I know what I want it to be."

Correctly interpreting her meaning, he shook his head morosely. "It can't be."

"Why?"

"Because all my life the people I love been leavin' me. You done it twice already. Or you woulda if I hadn't caught you. You can't tell me what's different now than three days ago, what's changed. What's gonna make you stick around no matter what."

"I don't know what to say."

"I'm glad you're better. I was worried about you. Still am. You deserve peace, you deserve to be happy. That's why I lied. I couldn't take that away from you. I'm mad and confused, but I'm always gonna be on your side. Gonna have your back."

"And I'll always have yours. This isn't the end for us, Daryl. It can't be. We didn't take the journey we've taken over the last two and a half years to not arrive at the end together."

She settled down to sleep, but she knew she was fooling herself-sleep wasn't coming. Of all the contingencies she could have planned for, she never foresaw this one. Daryl shot her down. To be fair, he wasn't completely closed to her vision of their future, but she had a lot of damage control to do to earn back his trust.

 **Coming Up:**

Something I really would love to see onscreen-Carol meets Dwight. Bad news for Dwight, huh? ;-)


	3. Fresh Out of Somedays

Daryl awoke early the next morning—if it was correct to call it awakening when he'd spent most of the night unable to sleep and watching Carol not sleeping. They took care of the morning's routine exchanging as few words as possible. Today they would return to Alexandria, about a full day's hike since they had to avoid the roads. Once the gear was packed, and the water bottles filled, they set out on their trek.

His mind was swimming with all of the different possible nuances of the previous evening's conversation. Had she really come here intending a romantic relationship? Why now? He'd always just kind of assumed that someday they would be together, when the situation was right and all of the shit was settled. But shit never seemed to settle, and when she'd taken up with Tobin, Daryl felt he'd run fresh out of somedays.

He wanted so much to believe her when she said she was better, that she wouldn't bolt again. But how could he? She had done it twice. Fool me one time…he shook his head, chastising himself. _Stop it, Dixon. Don't get distracted out here. That's how you got captured before, being distracted. Focus on the task at hand, not some pie in the sky notion of happily ever after. Ain't no such thing anymore, if there ever was in the first place._

He was mired in grief and depression. Try as he might, he could see no path forward for himself. No light at the end of the tunnel, no carrot dangling on the stick. Just more darkness and pain ahead. Perhaps Carol had been right to bolt.

Her voice ringing out pulled him away from his thoughts.

"When Rick sent me away from the prison, it devastated me," she began. "He effectively told me that I'd never see anyone I loved ever again. He didn't want me around his family because of what I'd done."

"That was bullshit," Daryl seethed. "He didn't have no right to do that. And he's done way worse himself now."

"I was treated like a pariah for killing two people who were dying anyway to try to save all of the rest. When I saw the smoke coming from the direction of the prison, I was drawn to it. I had to know if the family was okay, if there was anything I could do."

Daryl veered off slightly to the west so that he wouldn't make more obvious the trail he'd laid before. You never knew who might be tracking you. The fact that Carol had found him so easily unnerved him; this time it was Carol, but it could just as easily have been someone with ill intent. She followed suit, keeping up the conversation.

"When I got there, it was over. I saw Tyreese fleeing into the forest with the girls. My girls. The girls Rick chose to take from me despite the fact that their dying father entrusted them to me. I lost the trail after a bit, but eventually I tracked them down. The girls were trying to fend off some walkers. Well, Mika was. At the time I thought Lizzie was trying to keep Judith quiet, but she had her hand over her nose and mouth, and this really disturbing expression on her face. I gave Judith to Mika, got rid of the walkers, I told myself Lizzie just didn't know that you could smother a baby that way."

Daryl wasn't sure where this story was going, but he knew he needed to let her tell it. He had stopped her from doing so before, and regretted it. This was something that was clearly soul-crushing for her, and she needed to get it out into the open.

"Where the hell was Tyreese?" He questioned. "Why was them kids out there alone?"

"He was one adult alone with two young children and an infant. He deserves credit for saving them from the prison in the first place. Apparently they heard a woman screaming a short distance away, and he thought it might be someone from the prison, so he went to help."

"Shoulda took the kids with 'im."

He regretted a little his criticism of Tyreese. After all, if it had been him alone with all those young 'uns, he couldn't swear to how he might handle it. It was easy to be an armchair quarterback.

Carol seemed to ignore his commentary this time.

"Lizzie was messed up. I mean _really_ messed up. She thought that walkers were still just people, and they were different, but they were still who they were before. She fed them. She played with them. No matter how we tried, we couldn't convince her otherwise. I caught her playing with one—it looked like they were playing tag. I ran out and killed it, and she became totally unhinged, screaming at me 'she was my friend and you killed her! What if I kill you?!'"

He didn't want to be rude, but he needed her to stop talking for a moment. He stopped short and held up his right hand in the universal 'stop' gesture. Immediately, she stopped as well.

The tiny sound he thought he'd heard grew louder. He raised the crossbow and fired off the bolt just as the rabbit hopped across their path. The well-placed bolt stilled it instantly.

"Lizzie, she was the one feedin' the walkers at the prison?" He stooped to retrieve his arrow and the lunch it caught, but he didn't want Carol to think he wasn't listening.

"Yeah. And naming them. And mutilating animals. Like I said, she was messed up."

She held her breath for a moment, then inhaled sharply. Daryl could tell she was getting to the worse parts of the story.

"Tyreese and I, we left them alone for just a minute. We were at this little cottage. We'd cleared it. It was safe. But when we got back, there was Lizzie with a bloody knife in her bloody hands, standing over the bloody body of her sister."

Holy shitballs! He didn't imagine the story was going there.

"She smiled so big. She was actually proud. 'Don't worry, I didn't hurt her brain, she'll come back.' I couldn't believe I was looking at another dead child." She shook her head as if trying to make the image go away.

"Then she says 'Judith can come back, too. I was just gonna do her next.' I was dying inside. I went to put Mika down, and I found myself staring down the barrel of Lizzie's gun. 'No, no, you have to wait!'. "

Damn, Daryl thought. They had to kill that kid. There was no other way. He grew increasingly alarmed as he realized now exactly where this story was going. No, no, no, tell me she didn't have to do it. Tell me Tyreese stepped up and did it.

"We talked her into putting down the gun. I promised her I'd wait and let Mika turn. I didn't, of course, but she never knew that. Tyreese and I, we talked about it until we were blue in the face, but we couldn't come up with any workable solution. She needed mental help. She needed to be institutionalized. But obviously that wasn't gonna happen. We couldn't trust her around Judith. We couldn't trust her around us."

"There was only one choice," Daryl agreed. "Tell me Tyreese did it."

"No."

"Son of a bitch!" Daryl couldn't believe it. If he'd been there, he would have done it. It would have haunted him, but he would have done it to spare Carol.

"I shot a twelve year girl in the back of the head," Carol announced. It was the first time she'd ever spoken of it. "Rick banished me because I was a murderer in his eyes. I proved him right by murdering a child I loved to protect his child. And then Terminus, the Wolves, the Saviors…I don't recognize who I am anymore. That's why I was out by the car that night. That's why I put on such an act when we first got to Alexandria. That's why I took up with Tobin. That's why I left. I needed to be someone else…someone who isn't a child killer. Someone who doesn't burn people alive."

He took her hands in his. "You didn't murder that girl. You did what had to be done. And you did it humanely. This is the world we live in now. Sometimes it's 'we kill or we die'. It's not like you wake up in the morning and go 'wow, what a pretty day. Birds are singin', sun is shinin', I'ma go find some people to kill. All of them was a threat to either you or someone you loved. If you weren't there, that girl'd still be dead. And she woulda suffered. But, 'fore the walkers got her, she'd a killed Judith, too."

She caught his bright blue eyes with her own. "You asked me what's different, what's changed. This is it. Instead of running away from my demons, I'm ready to face them head on. I'm trying to find the real me again. The me from the prison…before Karen and David."

"But we have to change. The world ain't what is was even then. It changed and we gotta change with it. I just want you to be you, the you that's comfortable in her own skin."

He surveyed their surroundings and decided they were suitable for lunch.

"How 'bout we stop here and cook up this rabbit? We can talk some more."

"Sounds like a plan," she smiled in appreciation.

Nature called, and Daryl vanished into the woods to answer it. Carol squatted to begin digging a small pit for a fire.

"Hi, Darlin'," an unfamiliar voice jolted her. She looked up to see a slim man with burn scars covering half of his face aiming a crossbow at her.

"Gonna need that rifle on the ground in front of you," the man continued. "And that Glock. Both of them knives, too. Come on, sweetheart. I ain't got all day."

What the hell? Was that Daryl's vest he was wearing? She'd need to see the wings to be sure, but it certainly looked suspicious. Who was this joker? Then it dawned on her.

"You must be Dwight," she said as she straightened. She dutifully dropped the guns.

"Knives, too."

She did as ordered and stood with her hands on her hips.

"Okay, now we can chat," he said. "Who the hell are you? How do you know my name?"

With Carol disarmed, he let down his guard a bit and let the crossbow point slightly away from her. That was just the opening Daryl needed. In a flash, a bolt from Daryl's new bow pinned Dwight's right arm to the tree trunk.

Dwight howled in pain, dropped the crossbow, and, with his left hand, pulled the arrow from his arm and threw it to the ground. He found Daryl and Carol standing right there, their weapons trained upon him.

"I'll take this, Darlin'" Carol sniped as she removed the gun from his waistband.

"And this." She picked up the crossbow. It looked like an old friend. She put it behind Daryl. "Now you have two."

She patted him down making certain he held no additional weapons.

"And of course this." She yanked the vest off of Dwight. She hated that vest, but it was Daryl's, and she was damned if she was gonna let this prick have it. She held it up and examined it carefully. Turning to Daryl, she teased "He kept it cleaner than you do."

"Stop."

With a tilt of his chin, he motioned for her to raise her rifle again. When she did, he slung the crossbow over his back, slipped on his vest and unsheathed his knife.

"It's good that you got it. I wouldn't want no blood to get on it when I kill this motherless piece of shit."

"Had a bitch of a time getting' yours off it," Dwight needled.

In a fraction of a second, Daryl's knife was at Dwight's throat.

"Daryl?" Carol called out. "Daryl, wait."

"Naw."

"Daryl."

"No!"

"Daryl, please. Let's talk about this."

He looked at her with the fire of a thousand suns. Was she kidding him right now? How could she possibly judge him for wanting to kill this man? How could she not want to kill him herself?

"I know, I know," she held up her hands. Off his glare, she repeated with emphasis, "I know. But maybe we can get something out of him first. Maybe if we kill him before we 'interview' him, we're cutting off our nose to spite our face."

She had a point, and as much as he hated to admit it, she was right. As she aimed her rifle at their captive again, he withdrew the knife and resheathed it. He fixed his crossbow on Dwight's right eye.

"I got 'im," he said. "Look in my pack. Should be some duct tape in there. Can tie him up."

"Duct tape?"

"You got a problem with that? I'm a redneck."

Carol stifled a laugh. "No problem at all."

She rummaged through the bag, amazed at the randomness of the items inside. He picked up things that made up shake her head in puzzlement, but he nearly always found a use for them. How could someone be so creative yet so practical at he same time? She came up with the tape. Immediately, she set to work restraining the man securely.

"You still ain't answered my question," he probed. "What's your name? Why ain't I seen you before?"

"Shut up!" Daryl hissed at him. "You don't talk right now. And if you let out one damn whistle, I will shoot you right in the stones, man."

"I don't mind," Carol answered cheerfully. "It's Peaches. Or maybe Cookie. And you haven't seen me before because I've been away. But I'm back now."

With the last sentence, she flashed Dwight the scariest grin Daryl had ever seen. He wasn't sure what her plan was, nor why she was acting, but she was damn good at this sort of thing, so he was going to let her take the lead and play along with her. He liked that she didn't reveal any more information about herself than was necessary.

"About a half a mile east of here there's a house. It's burnt down, but it's got a bomb shelter. I checked it out before. It's clear. And it's pretty well camouflaged. If you was just happenin' by you probably wouldn't notice it," he suggested.

"What are we waiting for?" Carol asked as she shoved the hostage forward

 **Coming up:**

"This is all about Daryl?!"

"Also about Glenn and Abraham, but, yeah, you catch on quick. You hurt the people I love. Now you're gonna deal with me."


	4. We Are Family

The bomb shelter was adequate for their needs. The ladder from the outside ended in an oval chamber about ten feet by twenty. At the far end was a wooden bench against cheap wood-like paneling. A set of bunk beds lined the western wall while a small kitchenette and pantry marked the eastern one. In the center was a circular dining table and two wood chairs.

They secured their captive on the bench, his hands taped in front of him while a second strap of tape looped around both upper arms and crossed behind his back.

Unable to fire up what passed for a stove, Carol went topside to cook the rabbit.

"Who is she?" Dwight asked of the man watching over him.

"Never you mind."

"She means somethin' to you, I see the way you look at her."

"Didn't I tell you not to talk?! You can talk when Cookie asks you somethin', not before."

Dwight decided to try another angle.

"You know it was Sherry who helped you, right?"

"I figured."

"She helped you because she realized you are just like me."

"Man, SHUT UP!"

Before Daryl even realized what he was doing, he found himself standing over Dwight, menacingly aiming a crow bar at the man's head.

"Careful there," Dwight leered. "Wouldn't wanna piss off Peaches."

"You got no idea what the fuck you're talkin' about."

Daryl slowly lowered the crow bar and went to the table. He turned a chair around and straddled it backward, his arms folded across the back of it.

After a while, Carol returned with the rabbit. She sat down at the table and cut off a piece for Daryl. She handed it to him with a smile, then scooted her chair to face Dwight. The duo took perverse pleasure into eating in front of their hostage.

Daryl mockingly patted his pockets. "Damn, man, sorry, I musta left the Alpo in my other pants."

"So you let your bitch do all your cookin' _and_ talkin'?"

Daryl's knife flew across the room, lodging into the wall immediately to the right side of Dwight's neck.

"Watch yourself. You best show peaches a little respect. She is super smart with strategy and tactical shit. And she can read people well. So I'm the muscle and she's the brains. That's how we made it this far."

Carol glared at Dwight as she sauntered over to retrieve the knife from the wall. She knew that Daryl was plenty smart, and he knew that she was plenty capable of taking care of things physically, but she played along. She placed the knife on the table next to her partner and sat to eat some more. Swallowing. The last bite, it was time to begin,

"So let me see if I have a handle on this. You're the guy who attacked Daryl in the woods. And even though he still helped you and showed you kindness after that, you robbed him. Then, you killed Denise. For no reason at all."

"Like I said before, I wasn't aimin' for her—"

Carol fought back the urge to stab him in his ear. She settled for hurling her own knife into the wall on the opposite side of Dwight's neck from where Daryl's had landed. This time, the archer retrieved it for her and laid it no the table with a nod of his chin.

"Just so you know, if you have any interest in staying alive right now, that was the worst thing you could possibly say. Because I have a feeling it wasn't Rosita, either. So then, you trap Daryl and Rosita using Michonne and Glenn as bait, and, even though he's cooperating, you shoot him. Then you let him languish for hours without medical attention or pain control."

"This is all about Daryl?!"

"Also about Glenn and Abraham, but, yeah, you catch on quick. You hurt the people I love. Now you're gonna deal with me."

"What about those others?"

"They didn't deserve what they got. They were good people. But Daryl? Glenn? We go back to the beginning. And Abraham almost as far. We are _family_. That's what you—and Negan—underestimated. There's nothing I won't do for my family. There's nothing Daryl won't do for our family. That's where you fucked up, Sunshine."

Daryl noted that was was careful not to divulge which other Alexandrians they had close bonds with—no need to put targets on them

Carol continued recounting Dwight's litany of offenses. "But I want to make sure I'm totally up to speed, so you were also the guy in charge of torturing him, right? For eight days? "

"Givin' me that picture of Glenn's body was a nice touch," Daryl spoke up.

Carol visibly paled at his words. Those sick bastards!

"You didn't look like you was a stranger to torture," Dwight argued. "Took it like a champ. You never gave an inch. You knew how to separate from it. And I saw all them scars on your back."

"Yeah, well, I had a daddy who made sure I always knew that monsters are real. Beating on me wasn't even the worst thing he did to me. You're a lightweight, man." He picked his knife up off the table and looked at it absent mindedly. _Besides_ , he thought, _I deserved it. I was takin' my lumps for what I done to Glenn._

"My smokes are in the pocket, there," Dwight pointed to the vest. "Come on, I'll share."

Daryl reached into the pocket and pulled out the pack of Morleys. The same pack Carol had given him on his porch that morning that felt so long ago as they discussed Dwight and Sherry.

"These are _my_ smokes. And I ain't sharin'."

He returned the package to the pocket without opening it.

"You won't get a cigarette _or_ a blindfold," Carol informed Dwight coldly.

"So we all get that I'm a bad guy," Dwight conceded. "But I want to fix what I can now. Negan destroyed my life, too. I want him dead just as much as you do. I can help you."

"You coulda killed him one of the million times you been alone with him," Daryl hissed.

"You know that ain't true. You've seen it. They're _all_ Negan."

"You don't think a lot of them are just like you? Doing what they have to do to survive but would be more than happy to be free from him? But not one of you has the balls to do it."

"Some. But some are totally on board. Look, I know I've made sooo many mistakes. There ain't no going back for me at this point. I'm sorry, man. I truly am. You did a decent thing, and I made sure you paid through the nose for it. I wish I made a different choice back there in the burned forest. Coulda prevented a lot of this. Coulda saved Sherry. But I chickened out. I went back. I thought it was the best way to protect her. I let that prick put his hands on the woman I love. I gotta live with that. But maybe it's not too late to stop him from hurtin' anyone else."

"It's too late for you."

"I know you get it, Daryl, you told me so. And you couldn't do it because you had someone you loved, too. I thought becoming Negan was the only way, but you chose the exact opposite for the same reasons. And I knew I was wrong. I didn't have to take this path. I coulda made a different choice. That made me respect you and hate you at the same time."

Daryl used his sleeve to wipe his mouth of any remaining rabbit. "If I took what he was offerin', sure, maybe my physical sufferin' woulda ended, but I'd be sufferin' even worse in here," he placed a hand over his heart.

"I'd be betraying Peaches, and all of the others who gave me a chance, stood by me, trusted me. I'd be spitting on Glenn's and Abe's graves. There wasn't nothin' Negan could do to ever make me turn on the only people in my life who was ever good to me. Not a chance in hell. I'll take the beatins'."

"Jesus, man, you know what you're up against. And you people are down two more than you think."

"How's that?" Carol asked.

"A couple nights ago, one of your people broke into the Sanctuary. We took her down right away, without a struggle. Didn't injure her a bit. But the next morning, we went to her cell and found her dead and turned, not a mark on her."

"Sasha?" She asked.

"Hell if I know. Pretty, light-skinned black woman."

Daryl felt sick. No, this couldn't be. Not another one. They couldn't possibly have lost another member of their family.

"And she just _died_. All by herself," Carol seethed. "You don't know anything about it."

"Only thing was your man Eugene."

"What about him?" Daryl demanded.

"He went to see her late that night. I think he was the last one to see her alive."

"Why the hell wasn't he in his own cell?" Daryl asked, recalling how he'd been told of Eugene's abduction on the same day he'd escaped.

"He's Negan," Dwight answered. "Didn't even have to rough him up. He just immediately started swearing his allegiance to Negan. Now he's our chief engineer or some such shit."

Carol and Daryl exchanged glances. Could it be true? Had Eugene really turned on them? Even after they'd dragged him along, fed him and protected him all this time?

Also, if it were true, then using false names or attempting to disguise relationships was a fool's errand; Eugene could surely set the record straight for the Negan. Nevertheless, on the off chance that the scientist hadn't fully sold them out, they would continue the charade.

"Listen, if it's okay with y'all," he continued, "I really gotta pee."

"Piss in your pants, asshole." Daryl wasn't undoing the restraints, no how, no way.

Carol handed Daryl a rifle. She went to Dwight and cut the tape from his hands, handing him an empty tin can.

"Lucky thing for me Cookie has a heart."

"She don't like a mess," Daryl drawled as he kept the rifle aimed at his foe's head.

When he finished he placed the can on the floor and Carol quickly retaped his wrists.

"My partner wants to kill you. He wants you dead in the worst way. And after everything he's been through, I really want to give him that. So, if you're hoping for any other ending here, you'd better be damn convincing."

He looked at Daryl. "She tells you to let me go, you'd do it?"

"I trust her judgement. If she thinks killin' you is short-sighted, not what's best for the end goal, I'm willin' to listen."

Carol moved her chair to a place just inches from Dwight's. She held a bottle of water up to his lips and allowed him to take a swig.

"You say you want to help. That you want Negan dead, too. So what can you do for us?"

"I thought about a walkie," Dwight mused, "but he monitors all of our channels. I'd have to bring you intel in person."

"Won't they be watching Alexandria?"

"They will," he nodded.

"There's another way," Carol said cryptically. She turned to Daryl and motioned toward the ladder. "Let's talk."

They climbed out of the shelter into the fresh late afternoon air.

"So what's the plan, Cookie?"

She laid a gentle hand on his chest.

"I think we have to let him go."

Daryl stepped back, drew in a couple of breaths and fidgeted with his hands.

"You got no idea how much I hate that plan."

"Oh, I think I do," she gave him a sympathetic and understanding smile. "But we want to win this, right?"

Damn, just like Maggie. How did these women know how to manipulate him? _They know you well, silly. That's a good thing._

"Okay, we can let him go. But only for now. When this is over, I _will_ kill him. I'll kill him slow. I don't care if he's sorry or not."

"Can't blame you a bit."

"So what's up with Eugene?"

Carol's brow furrowed. "You think he could be running some kind of a game?"

"What, like a long con?"

"Yes. It wouldn't be the first time."

"For his sake, I hope so."

He thought back through the man's history with the family; if ever there was a weak link, Eugene was it. Well, Gabriel's loyalty had been questionable in the past, but the priest had really stepped up lately. He fervently hoped that this was a lie or a misunderstanding-the possibility of one of their own turning to Negan after everything the man had done to them hurt Daryl's heart. He hated that he may have to kill him, but if was truly a traitor, Daryl wouldn't hesitate.

"What if it's a trap? What if Dwight brings the whole of the damn sanctuary down on us?"

"Then we'll need an escape hatch."

"I need you to know that they're not takin' me alive again. If I'm surrounded, I won't surrender my weapon. I'll use it to opt out."

She couldn't disguise the shock and horror in her eyes. His voice lowered as he explained.

"If they catch us, they're gonna kill us both. Not right away, though. They'll want to do it back home for everyone to see. And they'll kill you first so I have to watch you die. That ain't happenin'. And I ain't lettin' them use me against the others like that. Or make me into a walker to kill the people I care about."

Carol regained her composure. As much as his words stung her, she couldn't argue with their truthfulness.

"So we really need an escape hatch in place. Luckily, we have one."

 **Coming up:**

He removed the smokes and dumped the remaining contents of the package into his left hand.

"What the hell? These _wedding_ rings?"


	5. A Loss Is A Loss

As darkness fell, Carol and Daryl made their way through the woods between Hilltop and Alexandria. After they freed Dwight, they were careful to alter their travel plans lest he betray them again and return with reinforcements. This was a section of the forest they hadn't traveled much in the past, so they had to be vigilant to discover a good place to stop for the night. The encounter with Dwight had created a significant delay and they were still hours from home.

They had no luck with hunting tonight, so they foraged on what little Carol had left in her pack.

"Four," Daryl broke the silence.

"Four what?"

"There's only four of us left from the camp outside Atlanta."

"Only five left from the farm," Carol added. "And six from the prison. Seven counting Judith."

"We came to Virginia fifteen strong," he said sadly. "Now we're only ten."

"You know," Carol said, "if you'd told me back then that only four people from the camp would still be alive today, I would've put money on you and Rick. But I wouldn't have put a dime on Carl or me. I would've guessed you, Rick, Shane and Andrea."

"You was always stronger than you knew." He stared at the stars for a minute, lost in his thoughts. "Beth said I was gonna be the last man standin'."

"She meant it kindly, but I can't think of nothin' worse. It'd mean I had to watch everyone else die. And I don't know how much more of that I can take."

His gaze leveled on her and remained fixed there. "I get why you left. But a loss is a loss whether they died or they're just…gone."

Carol exhaled slowly. She simply didn't know how to answer. She lay down on the bedroll with her hands behind her head.

It was her turn to break the silence.

"What did you mean about your daddy and the monsters?"

"You know what I meant. And you're changin' the subject."

"He was that bad?"

"Merle was a Boy Scout next to him," he rasped. He knew that she had heard Dwight's mention of the scars and he hoped she wouldn't press the issue. "He was the meanest son of a bitch I've ever met."

"I'm sorry. You deserved better."

"He'd be ashamed of me if he could see me now," he blurted.

"Ashamed of you? You're a good man."

"Time and again I've gone weak when I shoulda gone strong. Let people go, like the Governor, or like Dwight in the burnt out forest, when I shoulda killed 'em. ' _You're soft, boy!'_ He'd say. _'A weak, soft worthless pile of shit. You just keep fuckin' everything up, just like I told you you was gonna. Never gonna be nothin' to nobody.'"_

She sat up to look him in the face.

"You're not weak, Daryl. You're probably the strongest, most resilient person I know. What you are is kind and empathetic. Those are good things. And, most of the time, you make the exact right decision in situations like those."

She shook her head. "Never gonna be nothin' to nobody?! You're loved and respected by everyone who knows you."

She took a long swig from her bottle of water. "You're loved and respected by me."

He looked away from her, but she thought she heard a faint sniffle.

"Can I have one of those cigarettes?" She asked.

His hand reached into the vest pocket and fished out the pack of Morleys. He deftly opened the top and pulled on one. Instantly he could tell that something besides cigarettes was in the package. He removed the smokes and dumped the remaining contents of the package into his left hand.

"What the hell? These _weddin'_ rings?"

" _There's_ an anvil," Carol said, almost wishing she hadn't said it aloud.

"Naw, it didn't end too good for them."

"Maybe their story isn't finished yet. Maybe there are chapters left to be written. Besides, we're not them."

They sat side by side sharing a cigarette, each absorbed in his or her own thoughts. Clearly, another night of broken sleep lay ahead.

( )

They tried to keep their arrival at the Alexandria Safe-Zone low key, but it was not to be. It took quite some time to wade through all of the questions and greetings bombarding them. War was ever-closer, perhaps only two or three days away, and preparations were in full swing.

Finally free of the group again, Carol led Daryl to a clearing in the trees behind the rows of homes.

"I came looking for it after Maggie told me about it. Aaron said it was left from the housing development that was here before Alexandria."

She came to a stop at a square grate in the earth.

"It leads through a sewer, under the fence, to a spot in the woods about three hundred yards south of the main gate, like I told Dwight. It can't be seen from the street at all."

Daryl crouched down to inspect it more closely. "So this is our escape hatch?"

"Yep. The Saviors won't see Dwight meeting us at the other end, and, if things go south, we can hightail it back behind the walls and block it off. It would be really easy to defend if anyone were stupid enough to try to follow us."

"I'm gonna get a real secure lock for this. I think I got somethin' in my garage that'll work. Ain't nobody else gonna die because we told Dwight a way to get in without being seen by the guard at the gate."

"We should lock both ends with something that can't be reached with bolt-cutters," Carol agreed.

It took two hours to secure the grates to their satisfaction. But, with the job done, they could rest easier until their scheduled meeting with Dwight in the morning.

"Can I crash at your place?" Carol asked as casually as she could manage. "Mine's full of knights and…whatever they're called. I guess I need to brush up on my medieval literature."

"Okay, but keep the lamp low while you're readin'. I'm dog tired."

She decided to take that as a 'yes.'

She went home for a bit to shower and gather some clean clothing. Two weeks was long enough that she'd nearly forgotten how good a hot shower could be. Hot and cold running water was a luxury that her little house by the Kingdom just didn't have. Rifling through her closet, she passed by the pastel colored floral sweaters and opted for a simple solid blouse and slacks.

She took the long route to Daryl's, taking the opportunity to look around and see what had or hadn't changed in her absence. She stopped short before the front wall. The list of names scrawled there had grown at an alarming rate during her time here; however, some of the most recent ones were the most difficult to stomach.

 _Denise_ , which went on the wall the day she left.

 _Abraham_.

 _Glenn_. His name had been written there once before in error. This time, unfortunately, there was no mistake.

 _Maggie_ , thankfully there only to help convince Negan that she was dead.

 _Spencer_. Now the entire Monroe family was listed.

 _Olivia_.

And very soon she and Daryl,would have to break the news of Sasha's death. She thought of Daryl locked in the back of a van, bleeding from a gunshot wound and wondered how close he had come to being just another name on the wall. She wouldn't even have known. Suppose she had simply decided to return one day. How horrific would it have been to look at the wall and see _Daryl_ written there? It would have crushed what sanity she had left.

His house, normally very quiet, was abuzz with conversation. Every room except the master bedroom was occupied by fighters from the Kingdom.

She found Daryl sitting on his bed staring at the wedding bands. The door was open, so she knocked gently on the doorframe to alert him to her presence. Apparently, his mattress was one of the ones that they had managed to replace.

He, too, appeared to have showered and changed. He hastily set the rings on the nightstand, as if he were embarrassed to have been caught looking at them.

"Go see the names?"

"Yeah," she choked out. How did he know?

"Tough seein' it in black and white."

He patted the bed next to him. Accepting the invitation, she shut the door and sat beside him.

"So for, what, three days you thought Maggie was gone, too?"

"Mm hmm. But thankfully she was okay. I can't lose nobody else. I don't know what I'll do."

"I know what you mean. I'm not sure I should let you out of my sight."

Settling under the covers, he reached over and turned out the lamp. Carol could just barely make out his shape in the very low light streaming through the window. She wondered if she dared close the gap between them.

Mustering her courage, she snuggled up close to him and laid a hand on his chest. The throbbing of his heart beating beneath her hand made her feel safe and serene. She was pleasantly surprised that he didn't pull away; instead his arm snaked around her and his palm came to rest on the small of her back.

 **Coming up:**

"Hi, Carol," Dwight drawled. "Still don't believe that Eugene switched sides?"


	6. Eugene Switched Sides?

As the sun's morning rays shone through the curtains, Daryl sat on the edge of his bed waiting for Carol to return from the bathroom. He already missed the sensation of her warm body against his own. _And that was with clothes on…stop! Don't go there. You can't._ What the hell was he going to do? He wanted her so much; to hold her, to talk to her, to be near her, and yet, he couldn't dare allow himself to be open to the kind of hurt such a relationship could cause. Or could he? She had, after all, slept in his arms. _Good lord, you're an idiot! This shit ain't rocket science. Why are you so confused?_

She reappeared, radiant and ready for the day.

"What time is it?"

"Around eight," he guesstimated based on the sunlight. He motioned toward the clock on a table across the room, it's face obscured by the vest that had been dropped there. She moved the vest.

"7:53. Good guess."

"Good. Got time for breakfast before I gotta face that prick at ten."

"How about if you don't?" Carol suggested.

"Don't what?"

"Don't go meet Dwight. I can handle it. I'll go."

To Daryl that sounded like a really bad idea. The thought of Dwight and Carol alone turned his guts into knots.

"Not alone, you won't!"

"Daryl…" she protested.

"It shouldn't be just one person," he clarified. "What if he somehow gets behind you? He'd have a clear path inside the walls. And nobody would be expecting him."

She sighed.

"I stay behind you, just inside the grate. Should probably have someone at the inside grate, too, so if things go south, they can slam it shut. Even if we're on the outside," he said.

"So you're saying we need to bring someone else in on this," she noted, sitting beside him. "Who?"

"Rosita? I don't know…she's been kinda all over the place lately. Michonne, maybe?"

"It would put her in a pretty tough position with Rick."

"It would. Maybe it should be Rick."

"He's got his hands full already. And we don't even know if this will pan out. Who can we trust to stand by a hole in the ground and not ask too many questions?"

"We can trust Tara. But she might ask questions. And she wants him dead for Denise."

"Tara might work. Let's see if we can catch her at breakfast."

( )

At 9:55, Carol began descending into the sewer grate, while Daryl gave Tara the last minute instructions.

"You hear us yell 'close the grate', you close it and lock it right away. You see anyone trying to come up here that ain't Carol or me, you close it and lock it right away."

"Got it."

He followed Carol down into the sewer tunnel. It didn't smell too foul, he noted as he sloshed through the ankle deep water. It must be fresh water? How could that be? Whatever, he was grateful to not be wading through raw sewage.

Carol was too far ahead of him for his comfort, so he hurried to catch up to her. He moved in front of her as they reached the outer grate and peered through it.

"See him?" Carol asked.

"Nope. No walkers either."

He unlatched the grate and swung it open, allowing Carol to pass through into the wood beyond. True to his word, he stayed right in the doorway, rifle at the ready. Anyone wanting to go in would have to get through him.

Carol stopped just a few feet out and awaited her meeting. A rustling of leaves told her it was time. Dwight appeared from the woods and stood about six feet in front of her.

"Hi, Carol," he drawled. "Still don't believe that Eugene switched sides?"

 _Damn you, Eugene!_ Daryl could think of nowhere else Dwight could have learned anything about Carol. He and Carol exchanged knowing glances.

"Turns out you're a badass, but a tad unhinged. I suppose that's what the two of you see in each other. Carol and Daryl. Kinda catchy in a nauseating sort of way."

With such a stinging insult to Carol, Daryl found his tolerance at an end. He took the safety off the rifle.

"Thought you was gonna work with us, asshole."

"I don't have to like you to work with you," Dwight explained. "You don't have to like me to work with me. It's a common interest thing. Besides, my arm still hurts, jackass.

"So does my shoulder every time I lift my arm up."

"That should make holding a rifle fun."

"I manage. No pain, no gain right? And seein' you and Negan dead is definitely a gain," Daryl sneered.

"You ain't wearing it."

 _What? Oh, the vest._ "I'm thinkin' I'm gonna burn it. Maybe melt down them gold rings in case I lose a tooth or somethin'. Or to make the bullet I'm gonna use to kill you."

"Boys? Boys?" Carol gestured 'time out'. "It's not recess time yet. Can we get down to business?"

Dwight put his hands up in surrender. "I got no way to be sure, but it sure seems like Eugene's turned on you all. But if he ain't, and he thinks I'm with Negan, he ain't gonna tell me. And if I tell him I ain't with Negan, and he is, then I could be dead. Anyway, some investigating I done has me thinkin' he gave Sasha a suicide pill. I know for a fact that he made a couple. Whether she asked for it, or he took it upon himself, that I can't tell you."

"Wonderful," Carol said dryly. "Anything else?"

"Negan knows Rick is up to something. That junk lady, Jadis, she's working with him."

"She sold us out, too?"

"She sells to the highest bidder. It won't end well for her, though. Negan takes issue with people who ain't loyal."

It did seem like one of Negan's quirks Daryl thought recalling what he'd been told about Spencer's death.

"He's coming tomorrow at dawn. Likely three trucks, thirty or so men. How many fighters you guys got?"

"Enough," Daryl barked. No way in hell was he going to tip their hand about their newest allies.

"Good. You're gonna need 'em. Listen, I gotta go. I'm supposed to be on a run into D.C. today.

Be seein' y'all again tomorrow. I hope you're ready."

"We will be," Carol declared.

With Carol safely back in the tunnel, Daryl closed and locked the steel grate.

"We best go talk to Rick," he said as they waded along the pipe.

"How much do we tell him?"

"All of it."

Daryl climbed out first, then reached out a hand to help his friend. Tara locked the entrance once they were through.

"So what gives?" She asked. "Who did you guys meet with?"

"Dwight," Daryl confessed.

"Dwight?!" Tara was incredulous. "The guy that killed Denise?"

"Mm hmm."

"Are you kidding me? Is he still there? That son of a bitch needs to pay for what he did!"

"He will," Daryl assured her. "He will. As soon as we don't need him no more."

"Come see Rick with us," Carol suggested. "We'll explain everything."

( )

"Dwight?" Rick exploded. "A credible source?!"

"Right now," Carol countered, "he's the only source we have."

"If things play out tomorrow the way he says, then we'll know," Daryl added.

"He could be telling the truth this time so that we'll believe him next time," Michonne offered. "Then he drops the hammer on us."

"There's that." Rick nodded.

"Why are we debating this?" Tara said, her frustration evident. "I don't trust him either, but we'd be stupid to not be ready in the morning."

"Agreed," Carol said.

"Agreed," Rick seconded.

And thus preparations began in earnest. By nightfall, everyone needed to know exactly where to position themselves and when. They needed to know what signals to watch for, and what to do when those signals came. Weapons and ammunition were inspected and counted. Medical teams were readied. The Saviors had taken all of the medications, so the only antibiotics and analgesics they had were those brought by the Kingdom contingent. More would arrive with Maggie and the group from the Hilltop. A messenger was dispatched to Hilltop, but if they encountered any difficulties they may not be able to reach Alexandria in time for the battle.

A second messenger was sent to the junkyard to request assistance from Jadis and her people. They told her they saw some Saviors in the woods near Alexandria and feared an attack was imminent. If all went according to plan, disarming and dispensing with the junkyard crew would be no problem.

Rick and Ezekiel oversaw the preparations, pitching in where necessary. They didn't know exactly what to expect, but no matter what it was, they would be ready. Failure was not an option. They would be ready.

In the afternoon Daryl went hunting with three rather skilled archers from the Kingdom. They brought back a good sized buck, as well as two wild turkeys. Under normal circumstances, this would be a veritable feast, but they literally had an army to feed. They would simply have to stretch the food as far as they could with the meager contents of the pantry. It was time for Carol and the other two cooks to work their magic.

It turned out that they had enough to satisfy everyone after all. Once darkness fell, Daryl sat on his porch in a lounger, watching the people coming and going. There was laughter, chit chat, friendly greetings-nothing to give away the gravity of the task ahead of them.

"Like a damn street party," he muttered as Carol approached.

She shrugged. "They just need to blow off some steam before tomorrow."

"They put Sasha on the wall," he said, unable to keep the sadness out of his voice.

"I saw. How many more tomorrow?"

"None, if I got anything to say about it," he growled.

"Seems awfully ambitious," she sighed.

"Just make sure it ain't you, okay?"

"Same to you. Nine lives, right?"

They decided to retire early as they would be up before the dawn. Tomorrow was shaping up to be a big day, one that could set the tone for the war. They lay together as they had the previous night, both wishing for greater intimacy but unwilling to risk pushing the issue. For now.


	7. Tell That To Fat Joey

_Jesus Christ_ , Daryl blinked and rubbed his eyes. When did morning get so damned early? He staggered across the room to quiet the offensive noise emanating from the clock. Carol rolled over and stretched.

"Four thirty already?"

"Yep. Time to find out if Dwight's intel is any good."

Carol went to the window to view the street below.

"I'm assuming these are the junkyard people."

"This early?"

"They're just coming in the gate."

"Rick there?"

"Yes. And Michonne and Aaron."

"Let's hope the folks from the Kingdom remember the plan and stay outta sight."

They hastily made their way downstairs and out to the gate area. The junkers were still steaming into Alexandria, maybe forty in all. They carried the guns Rick had given them in exchange for their assistance. Rick and Jadis exchanged greetings and gradually gathered all of her people into a pre-arranged spot in front of Tobin's house. Though Daryl wasn't a paragon of the Queen's English himself, he found the group's speech patterns irritating.

Once they were all rounded up, and all of the Alexandrians were present, Rick raised his right hand in a fist. The plan went off without a hitch. Kingdomers appeared out of every nook and cranny simultaneously with their weapons drawn. In the street, between homes, on rooftops and in doorways. Jadis knew they were surrounded—outnumbered and outgunned.

"We win." Rick said.

The odd woman signaled to her followers to surrender their weapons. Game, set, match without a single shot having to be fired. Gotta like the way it's going so far, Daryl thought.

Daryl joined his friends in disarming the captured enemies.

But trouble was brewing—Rick and Ezekiel hadn't, apparently, decided on what to do with Jadis and her crew once they were caught. It was distasteful to them to kill so many unarmed men and women, but on the other hand, these were enemy soldiers who had come there to kill them, and it wasn't like they had any capacity for holding a large number of prisoners of war. If released, they could simply find more guns and return as numbers for Negan.

They were still debating the issue when the approaching trucks of the Saviors could be heard. Several of the fighters opened fire on the junkyard crew, taking out quite a few of them.

"Positions!" Ezekiel shouted. Everyone ran to their assigned places and aimed their guns at the trucks.

Negan never even got out of his vehicle. The battle was over as quickly as it began. The remaining Junkers took advantage of the chaos to flee into the woods. When the smoke cleared, eight Saviors lay dead on the streets of Alexandria, along with twelve Junkers and one man from the Kingdom.

Daryl and Michonne walked the perimeter of the fence, making sure none of the invaders remained, and that all of the dead had been prevented from turning. They started at the gate, moving in opposite directions, until they met in the middle of the back fence.

"Know anything about this?" Michonne asked as she held up a small wooden figurine. "I found it near the gate."

"Dwight carves these damn things," he said as he took it from her. He turned it over and read where someone had written a message on it.

 _'Tom. Noon.'_

"Looks like we're meetin' him again tomorrow at noon."

( )

It was midday when Maggie, Jesus and Enid arrived, along with ten from the Hilltop who volunteered to fight. Daryl left on a hunt again with the same three companions, hoping to duplicate their success. They returned triumphant, with two deer this time.

The mood at Alexandria was exuberant following the initial taste of victory. With he fresh produce brought by the group from Hilltop, a barbecue feast was in order. As the day wound to a close, Rick, Michonne, Daryl, Carol and Maggie sat around Rick's kitchen table.

"You guys trust this guy?" Maggie asked.

"No," four voice answered.

"But so far what he's given us has been true," Carol added.

"He was the one with the burn scar? The one that stuck his crossbow in Glenn's face, right?" Maggie's eyes narrowed at the memory.

" _My_ crossbow," Daryl said sadly. It still sickened him that his own weapon had been used against him and the people he loved. "But, yeah."

"I wonder how he got those scars."

"Punishment," Daryl informed them. "When they step outta line, Negan makes a show outta burnin' their face with a hot iron, right out of the fire."

"Iron?" Carol asked.

"Yeah, like you use to iron clothes."

"Why on earth don't they just kill him?" Maggie asked.

"Fear and intimidation are powerful tools," Carol replied. Silently, she thanked her lucky stars that Daryl hadn't been subjected to that particular torture. What had life been like for him there? She got up from the table to get another cup of tea, and the tiny bandage peeking out of the back of Daryl's shirt caught her eye. It looked dirty. We'll have to change that, she axe a mental note.

When the gathering broke up, they returned to Daryl's bedroom and readied themselves for bed.

Carol came up behind him and put a hand on his right shoulder.

"This dressing needs to be changed."

She immediately felt his muscles tense.

"It's fine."

"It's not fine," she insisted as she pulled back the shirt a little. "It's really dirty. You shower with this on?"

"Can't reach it to take it off."

"So ask someone," she scolded. "What's this from, anyway?"

"Gunshot. Through and through." Every time that fanned gunshot wound was mentioned, it sent a shiver down her spine. She had been shot, too, twice, and on the same day Daryl was, but hers were limbs. His was right in the chest.

"The one's been off from the front for several days. Time for this one go, too."

"I said it's fine," he barked, more forcefully than he'd intended.

Carol drew back her hand. Why was he so adamant about this? He clearly did not want her to touch it. But it needed to be touched, dammit!

"Daryl." She said softly, in the calm, patient tone that usually worked with him.

He hesitated a few moments, then sighed and began unbuttoning his shirt.

Once the shirt dropped away from his back, she understood. She tenderly traced one of the long scars with her finger.

"Tried to hide it with the tattoos, but I gave up. Just made the scars more colorful."

She leaned forward and spoke into his ear.

"This isn't anything to hide, Daryl. There's no shame here. If anything, it's a testament to your inner strength and character."

She gently removed the bandage. The wound was healing well, so she decided to leave it uncovered. They climbed into bed.

"He really was a monster, wasn't he?" It was more a statement than a question.

"He was," Daryl confirmed.

They lay quietly in the darkness until Daryl spoke again.

"I think I'm turnin' into him."

"You?"

"The anger. The rage. I don't know what to do with it. I'll kill 'em. I'll kill 'em all. I don't give a shit why they're there."

She lifted her head and positioned herself to look him in the eyes.

"If all you had in your heart was rage, you wouldn't have lied to me up at the Kingdom. You wouldn't have left Hilltop to protect Maggie. You wouldn't be trying to give Eugene the benefit of the doubt. You're not a monster, Daryl. And you never will be. It's just not in your nature. You talk big, but your first instinct is mercy."

"Tell that to Fat Joey."

"Who?"

"The Savior I killed escapin' from the Sanctuary. He didn't draw on me or nothin', told me he'd step aside. What I did to him…I'm startin' to scare myself."

"If you hadn't killed him, he might've sounded the alarm as soon as you were past him. Or he might've shot you in the back."

She rested her head back on his still bare chest. "You're a good man, Daryl Dixon. You're not your father."

( )

"Welcome home," Tara said to Maggie as she sat down with her breakfast plate.

"Thanks," Maggie said. "I've missed everyone so much. It was really hard, though, I should've expected it but I didn't. It was really hard to be in our house without Glenn there."

Suddenly Daryl lost his appetite. He turned the fork over and picked at his food. His distress wasn't lost on Carol, so she rubbed his back in support.

Maggie was an incredibly strong woman. She had already endured the losses of her mother, brother and sister, and witnessed the horrific murders of her father and husband. Still she maintained a positive attitude and showed courage and kindness to those around her. _Please let that baby be all right_ , Carol prayed.

Breakfast was an unhurried affair as the group's conversation shifted around from Glenn to Abraham to Sasha. The stories told were upbeat as they reminisced about their fallen family and remembered the good times that they shared instead of the bad. Drawing especially raucous laughter was the story about the time on the road before Alexandria that Abe bet Daryl he could catch a wild chicken with his bare hands. Abe had chased that damn chicken around for an hour before an exasperated and hungry Daryl had put an arrow into it.

Noontime found Carol once again just outside the mouth of the sewer pipe and Daryl just inside.

"Negan's pissed," Dwight informed them. "But he's already got a plan."

"And what's that?"

"He figures if everyone is at Alexandria, it's a good time to attack the Hilltop or the Kingdom and shut them down. Punish 'em. Hilltop's closer. He's headed there tonight."

Carol wasn't sure what to believe. They could take him at his word, and send everyone to defend Hilltop. But what if he were lying? All of the fighters would go to Hilltop and Negan would attack Alexandria. Or, what if he were telling the truth, but Negan was on to him and and fed him false information?

"Thank you," Carol said. "You really helped us out yesterday."

Dwight nodded.

"I have another request, though. Is there anyway you can get your hands on, or even draw, a complete detailed floor plan of the Sanctuary and all of the outposts?"

"What you gonna do with that?"

"I don't know yet," Carol confessed.

"I can do it. But I'm gonna be too far north tomorrow to get here. I'm gonna have to leave it somewhere for you."

"Such as?"

"You got a pen?"

Still hesitant to lower his crossbow, Daryl handed his bag to Carol. She fished in it for a moment and gave Dwight a pen and a notepad. He scribbled something and gave it back to her.

"What's this?" She asked. "An address?"

"It's a house in Fairfax. I'll leave the map there when I pass by in the morning."

( )

"So we all load up and go to Hilltop, and they come and crush Alexandria while it's unprotected?" Rosita prostested.

"Hilltop came here to help you," Jesus pointed out. "We had to leave our home unprotected to do that."

"Take it easy, everybody," Rick admonished. "There's a lot of moving parts to this thing. Let's sort it all out."

"Rick, we've got to get moving. If we run into trouble on the road, we won't make it in time," Maggie said urgently.

"Okay, what if we hedge our bets? Half here, half Hilltop," Rick suggested.

"Then both are vulnerable," Rosita opined.

"Should still be enough to hold their own unless Negan goes full bore," Daryl chimed in.

"If he sticks with three trucks," Carol said, "we should be good."

"But he's pissed off," Rosita noted. "He might send more to make a statement."

Rick drew in a deep breath. "All right, here's the plan. Dwight told us the truth last time. So let's believe him this time. I know, it could be a trap. But it's likely not. Let's send two thirds to the Hilltop. But I want some of my people in each place."

"I'm goin'" Daryl said.

"Okay," Rick agreed. "Carol, will you stay behind to keep Alexandria afloat?"

She nodded affirmatively.

"Rosita, I take it you're staying?"

"No," she said defiantly. "If this is the decision, I'll go. Let's do this."


	8. Take The Shot

Carol fidgeted nervously as she peered out the kitchen window. Nope, still no signs of the group that went to Hilltop. All had been quiet on the home front. Her relief that they seemed to have made the right decision had turned to near panic as the hours passed. Now it was after one in the morning.

Was the battle still ongoing? Was it over and they had decided to wait for daylight before returning? Was it over and they were all dead or captured? The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach worsened with each tick of the clock.

She had taken the opportunity after dinner to go see Tobin, to make certain he understood that there was no going back for them. She didn't come right out and tell him she used him, but she was pretty sure he got the message.

After leaving him, she volunteered to take a turn at watch to give her something else to think about. But, alas, Gabriel relieved her of duty at midnight.

Daryl's revelation the previous night that he feared he was becoming his father was bothering her more than she cared to admit.

 _Daryl crouched by his motorcycle, lost in thought. Carol sat on the steps beside him._

 _"Those people you met, the ones in the burnt forest…they took it from you."_

 _"Yeah."_

 _"You saved them, right?"_

 _He didn't answer. He didn't need to. He took a puff from the cigarette._

 _"Sorry," she said sincerely. "It's who you are. We're still stuck with that."_

 _"No we ain't," he replied. "I shoulda killed 'em."_

He was right. Of course he was right. And she knew it then—she'd even told him as much later. But at the time, she was quite disturbed. She flashed back to Dale and his fears that they would lose their humanity; she was pretty sure she was losing hers. But Daryl's kind heart was one of the things she most admired about him. It ripped her heart to shred to think he could become callous or cruel.

But he hadn't, had he? Despite his vows of vengeance, he still showed her, and everyone else, that he cared. In fact, it was because he cared so deeply that he was willing to do whatever was necessary to protect his loved ones. Somehow, some way, despite everything he had seen and suffered, Daryl's humanity was intact.

She drifted off to sleep, if one could call it that with all the tossing and turning.

When she opened her eyes again, the bright light coming through the window was almost painful. She thought she'd heard something. She opened her eyes a second time as they adjusted to the light and realized that what she heard was the man climbing into bed next to her.

"Hey," Daryl drawled.

"You're back! How did it go?"

"Lost two. They lost way more."

"Who were the two?"

"Francine. And a guy from the Hilltop."

She was sorry to hear about Francine, and wished she'd gotten to know her better _. No, you don't. Then the loss would hurt even more._

"Have you guys been up all night?" He wore a very tired, weary look.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm gonna try to get a few hours of sleep now."

( )

Carol scoured the map of Fairfax, hoping to find the address Dwight gave her. Even with the directory on the back, finding the street was like finding a needle in a haystack.

"Find the house?" Daryl spoke up from behind her.

"Oh, you're up. Want some coffee?"

"Naw, I'm good."

"And no, I haven't found it. Remember the good old days when you could just type an address into your phone and instantly get turn by turn directions?"

"Naw," he shook his head, "I never had no use for a phone that's smarter than me. 'Sides," he added with a smirk, "I'd just get hooked on shootin' them little birds at the pigs or somethin'."

"Sophia was an Angry Birds fanatic." She smiled broadly at the memory. How nice it was to be able to think of her daughter and smile. She hadn't thought that day would ever come.

( )

Finding the house turned out to be more like finding a sliver of a needle in a haystack, but eventually they made it to the front door. It was unlocked, swinging inward when Carol pushed on it. They split up in the foyer, going from room to room with weapons at the ready in case this place had become a home for walkers. Heading into the den, Carol found herself surprised by a gun six feet from her face.

It was in the hands of a pretty young woman, her brown hair pulled into a ponytail.

"I don't mean you any harm," Carol said. "A friend of ours left something here for us. We'll just get it and go."

"Get out of my house!"

"I just need to get—"

"Get out!" The woman's attention was caught by Daryl's arrival on the scene. " Oh my God…Daryl?"

Daryl felt four eyes burning through him. He slowly lowered the crossbow in a show of good faith.

"She's tellin' you the truth. We just need to get somethin'. Dwight said he was gonna leave it here for us."

The woman lowered her gun.

"Why would he leave you anything here?"

"He's workin' with us now. He's helpin' us."

She looked confused.

"He told me you're the one who helped me."

"I owed you one."

He looked at Carol. "This is Sherry, Dwight's wife."

"Why is D helping you now?"

"He says he wants Negan dead," Carol answered.

"So its true…I came in here and I saw the pretzels and beer…oh my god, he's really turned on Negan?" She began crying. "I should've been here. I should've been here when he brought the pretzels."

Sherry turned to Daryl. "Please. Please, I know what he's done to you, I know I have no room to ask, but please don't kill him. He's not evil. He got in over his head."

"I can't promise that."

"Please!"

"Sherry," Carol stepped forward. "My name's Carol. I'm Daryl's…"

...what, exactly? She supposed even if she had a thesaurus in her pocket, she wouldn't be able to find a word that would correctly define her relationship with the man beside her. She settled on "…friend. Thank you for getting him out of there."

"What are you guys looking for?"

"A map," Carol answered. "Of the Sanctuary and the outposts."

Sherry picked a paper up off the table and handed it to her. "It's here. I was wondering what this was for."

"Thanks."

Carol looked the woman up and down. She was pale and drawn. The dark circles under her eyes were clear evidence of her exhaustion.

"You look like you haven't eaten or slept. Do have someplace safe to be?"

"Not really."

"Come back to Alexandria with us. We have an army there. We ran the Saviors out a few days ago, and we ran them out of Hilltop yesterday."

"N—no," she stammered. "If Negan or, really, any of them saw me there, it could be really bad for D."

Daryl and Carol exchanged glances. He motioned with a tilt of his chin for her to follow him to the next room.

"You sure that's such a hot idea?" He asked once they were out of earshot of Sherry. "What with me gonna kill her husband and such?"

Still on that? Carol understood his motivation completely, and couldn't blame him a bit, but found herself hoping he'd changed his mind. "We'll, uh, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. She did save you, right?"

"Yup," he conceded. And after all, Sherry and Dwight weren't the same person. They returned to speak with her again.

"We got an escape hatch," Daryl said. "We can hide you if they get inside our walls."

"I appreciate it, but I can't. I can't. It's too risky." Her indecision was etched in her features.

Daryl nodded. "M'kay."

"If you change your mind…" Carol offered.

"I won't. Listen, Daryl, Negan didn't…do anything to him, did he?" There was a pleading in the woman's voice, reminding Carol of a time not-so-long ago that her own voice had asked a question even though she was terrified of the answer.

"We ain't buddy-buddy, he don't talk to me like that. But if you're asking if the other side's burnt, naw, it ain't."

"Thank you," she responded softly. "Thank you."

( )

After they left Sherry, the duo studied the map Dwight had drawn them, complete with a basic floor plan of the Sanctuary.

"This is the walker yard," Daryl pointed. "And this is the gate I got out from."

"How far is this from here?"

"Maybe an hour."

"How far out do they have sentries posted?"

Daryl rubbed his chin. "I dunno. But when I left, there was none once I was out the gate. What're ya thinkin'?"

"I'm thinking we should check it out. It's sort of on the way. See what we see."

Daryl had seen enough of the place to last him a lifetime. "Naw, forget it. Let's go home."

"We're gonna pass pretty close to there. Come on."

Daryl sighed. _Fine. She wins, as usual_. He started up the street.

They approached the complex from the northern side, the overgrowth allowing them to remain fairly well concealed.

"This is close enough," Daryl insisted.

They could see activity within the fence. Daryl used the scope from his rifle to magnify his view.

"They're haulin' some kinda equipment into that garage. Can't really tell what. Machinery of some sort."

"Anyone we know?"

"Naw. I don't see Negan. Don't see Dwight. Don't see Simon. Not even Davey," he replied. "Wait…damn, there's Eugene."

"I still can't believe he turned on us after everything we did for him," Carol said with disgust. "Do you have a shot?"

Daryl glanced at her, then peered back through the scope. "Mm hmm."

"Take it."

"Then they'll know we're here."

"Then we'll be outta here. He's a traitor. He killed Sasha. Take the shot."

"We don't know that," his denial sounded weak, even to him. Yet he just couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger. It was still possible that Eugene was running a con, right?

Carol raised her own rifle right as the target disappeared into the garage.

They both lowered their weapons.

"Let's go home," Carol muttered.

They headed back to Alexandria, each of them wondering silently whether Daryl's choice was correct, or yet another missed opportunity to prevent further bloodshed.

( )

Daryl and Carol lay in bed that night, the encounter with Sherry fresh in the minds.

"She still loves him," Carol noted. "Even after everything. She loves him."

"And he still loves her."

"I told you their story had more chapters."

"Still don't know that. Maybe they'll never see each other again. Almost makes it sadder that they still love each other."

Carol chuckled. "And I thought _I_ was a 'glass half empty' kind of person."

"Hell's _my_ glass?!" He joked.

Suddenly serious again, he caressed her back, then stilled. "What are we doin' here, Carol?"

"How do you mean?" Could he really be asking what she thought he was asking?

"You know what I mean. You and me. Us. This. Are we or ain't we?"

"I hope that we are."

His next words nearly stopped her heart.

"I want to."

"So what are we waiting for?" She asked softly. "I've been in love with you since the prison. Maybe before."

"Me, too. Ain't nothin' I wouldn't do for you."

When their lips met for the first time, it was as though a a long-closed door creaked open, and a tiny ray of light shone in, getting bigger and bigger with each kiss.


	9. Second Chances

They were awakened by a knock at the door. Nine o'clock. Daryl sat straight up in bed. It was unusual for him to sleep so late unless he'd taken a late watch the previous night. As Carol rubbed her eyes, he pulled on some clothes.

He opened the front door to reveal Carl.

"There's someone at the gate for you."

"For me?"

"She asked for you. My dad said not to let her in unless you okay it."

"She give a name?" Carol called out from behind him.

"No. She just asked to see Daryl."

They made their way out to the gate and looked through the gap between the gate and the fence.

Recognizing the visitor, Daryl pulled the gate open and allowed her to enter.

"You know her?" Rick asked.

Carol nodded. "It's Dwight's wife."

"Thanks," Sherry said. "The longer I stand out there, the more likely someone is to see me."

"You understand why we have to be cautious," Rick growled. "Don't get too comfortable. I don't know if you're staying."

"I was invited."

"Not by me. But I trust their judgement," he pointed a thumb toward Daryl and Carol. "So I'll talk it over with them."

He turned to Carl. "Carl, show her where she can get some breakfast while we discuss this."

As Carl led Sherry away, Rick turned to his friends.

"You trust her?"

"Not totally," Carol said. "But she did help Daryl escape, and she's on the run from the Saviors now."

"Might be useful," Daryl added. "She knows how things work there."

"All right, all right, we'll see how it goes. But if she tries anything—anything—drop her."

( )

"You're sure you're cool with this?" Daryl asked. Tara's volunteering to let Sherry stay in her house caught him by surprise.

"I am," Tara responded. "I really am."

"Despite what Dwight did?"

"Two years ago, I followed the man who tried to kill all of you. I saw him slit the throat of Maggie's dad. But you guys forgave me, and accepted me, because I didn't fire a shot. I was in over my head. As far as I can tell, this Sherry person didn't fire any shots, either."

Daryl helped Sherry get settled in at Tara's then went to see Carol. He found her sitting on her porch with Ezekiel.

"Hey."

"Is it glad tidings you bring?" Ezekiel asked dramatically.

Daryl looked at him as though he'd grown a third eye, then turned to Carol.

"Tara took her."

"Tara? Even though..?"

"Yup."

"If you'll pardon me, there are matters of the Kingdom requiring my attention,"

Ezekiel stood.

"Later," Daryl dismissed.

"Goodbye, Your Majesty."

Daryl took the now vacant seat next to Carol.

"Do you think it's too late for Dwight?" Carol wondered.

"He made a shitty choice. He chose to kneel. I only knelt once the whole time I was there, and that was just because Carl was there."

"They could've come back here with you that day. How different would things have been for everyone?"

"We'd a known what we was gettin' into with the Saviors."

"And she wouldn't have been with Negan."

"Yeah. I get why they did it, though. They both thought they were doin' what was best for the other. "

Daryl pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "Know what I been thinkin'?"

"What's that?"

"He ain't so different from Merle."

Off Carol's intense stare, he continued. "Merle took up with the Governor 'cause he was injured, desperate, needin' to be somewhere. Everything he did he did for the Governor. He didn't have no beef with Glenn or Maggie or Michonne."

"And yet he tried to kill them."

"Mm hmm. But I believed he could redeem himself."

"And he did."

"'Cause we gave him the chance."

" _You_ gave him the chance. Going soft on me, Dixon?" Carol teased. "Gonna give Dwight a second chance?"

"Fourth chance. What kinda dumbass would I be if he blew it again? 'Sides, even though it weren't for lack of tryin', Merle didn't actually kill any of us. Dwight did. I ain't sure yet what I'm gonna do."

"It may not matter anyway," she offered. "Eventually, Negan's going to wonder how we keep getting out ahead of him. Then he'll do to Dwight what the Governor did to Merle."

He took a few puffs. Carol looked as though she were a million miles away.

"You think I'm soft 'cause I didn't take out Eugene?" He asked.

"No. I think you're _Daryl_ because you didn't take out Eugene."

He wasn't exactly clear on what she meant by that, but her warm smile told him she meant it as a compliment.

( )

The days rolled by like hours as everyone struggled to live their lives amidst preparations for war. Meetings were conducted, plans were made and meals were shared. Three more Savior outposts were easily obliterated, hopefully making their job easier when the time came for all out war.

Sherry found ways to make herself useful; this morning she was assisting Daryl with field dressing a deer.

"What's the deal with you and Carol?"

"It's complicated."

"Because she left."

His knife stilled as he stared at her.

"I have my sources! Anyway she came back. What's the problem?"

"Why you askin' so many questions?"

"I'm just trying to be friendly. Maybe I can help."

"She left cause she had some things she needed to work out."

"But she did, right? Work them out? So that's good. She did what she needed to do to be healthy."

"You finished?"

"Almost. I screwed up, and I lost my soulmate. Maybe forever. Don't make the same mistake. Grab on tight and don't ever let go."

Having said her piece, she turned and walked away. Daryl called after her.

"Sherry."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Suddenly, Rosita shouted from the watch tower.

"Rick! Daryl!"

Both men came running, as well just about everyone else. Rick peeked through the gap and opened the gate, gun drawn.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I got nowhere else to go," Dwight said. "He knows it's me."

"Not our problem."

"Come on! I done everythin' I can for you people! I got more info, too."

"Let's hear him out, Rick," Daryl suggested.

"You send me back out that gate," Dwight warned, "I'm a dead man. Negan…" His voice trailed off as he spotted Sherry coming up behind Daryl.

"D?!" She exclaimed and ran to him.

They fell into an embrace.

"You're here?" He marveled.

"I've been here a few days. Daryl and Carol were kind enough to vouch for me. I ran into them at our house. Oh my god, I'm so sorry I didn't wait for you…"

"I brought the beer and pretzels."

"I know."

"I told Negan you were dead. I was hoping that would give you time to get far away."

"All right," Rick interrupted. "How about we put him the cell for the sake of security? Then we'll know for sure he's not funneling messages to Negan."

Rick quickly patted him down and confiscated all of his weapons. Then he was led to the cell Morgan had constructed in his basement.

"So what's this new info?" Daryl asked.

"He told me he's goin' to the Kingdom tomorrow for a full scale assault. But if he was already smellin' a rat then, he mighta fed me false info. He was runnin' low on ammo, so he's got Eugene overseein' the manufacture of bullets."

Daryl felt a sudden urge to vomit. Of course. He spared Eugene, so Eugene was going to help kill all of them. His father's voice reverberated through his head. _Darylina, you useless sack of shit! You fucked up again, didn't you, dumbass?_

"We're ready whenever they come," Rick declared. "What do you mean by 'full scale'?"

"I mean everyone and everything he's got. About two hundred."

"Two hundred?" Michonne winced.

"You guys are outnumbered," Dwight confirmed. "I'll fight with you if you'll let me. So that's one more."

"Even with all of the outposts we've taken out?" Rick asked.

"Yep."

"What sort of munitions does he have?" Aaron inquired.

"Well, you guys got most of the explosives. But he's still got some grenades, and those RPGs we hauled outta here." Dwight swallowed. "And of course a shitload of guns."

"He's not going to the Kingdom," Rick guessed. "He's waiting for us to send half our fighters away, like we did with Hilltop. Then he's gonna lower the boom right here." He pointed at the ground.

"And so we shall not disappoint," Ezekiel agreed. "My people and I will go. We will travel over the main road to allow the Saviors to see our departure. Then we will stop and lie in wait. When we see your flare, we shall return."

( )

"Hurry back," Rick patted Ezekiel on the shoulder. As the last of the knights of the Kingdom filed out, he somberly closed the gate. Rosita, Tara, Maggie, Tobin, Scott and several from the Hilltop joined them, in the hopes that Negan would see them going to assist the Kingdom. That, they reasoned, should make their story more believable.

Rick turned to Father Gabriel.

"You got the plan, right?"

"Certainly. I climb high into a tall tree with a good view of the road and when I see the Saviors approaching, I send up a flare."

"Good luck," Rick sent him on his way.

The time ticked by very slowly for the nervous inhabitants of Alexandria. They had made themselves bait, and were becoming more apprehensive with each passing moment. Daryl, Carol, Rick and Michonne paced about the streets. Dwight and Sherry kept to themselves near the church.

Finally, Carol sat on a curb, rifle at her side. Daryl made his way over to her.

"You okay?"

She nodded. "Dreading this but wishing it would just hurry up so we can get it over with."

"You ain't gotta do this, you know."

"I do."

"No, you don't. There's plenty of ways you can help that don't require killin'. Maybe go help in the infirmary, or with ammo."

She gave him a grim half-grin. God, if she only had a way to express how much she appreciated his concern. "This is exactly where I'm supposed to be. I'm okay. Really."

He crouched in front of her and took her hands in his. "We gonna be all right, you know."

"Nine lives."

"Right."

With his back turned, Daryl didn't see Gabriel's flare. But Carol did.

"There it is," she said as she jumped to her feet and grabbed her rifle.

The citizens of Alexandria began pouring from their homes into the streets.

"Remember!" Rick called out. "No one fires until Ezekiel gets here."

No one could deny that the sheer number of Negan's soldiers was intimidating. They were frightfully outnumbered. The Saviors had no difficulty corralling the residents in very little time.

Carol remained stoic on the outside, but was fretting nervously internally. What was taking Ezekiel so long? If Negan wished, he could simply spray her and her friends with machine gun fire and be done with it. They were sitting ducks. Now they were surrounded, at the mercy of a maniac.

"Which one is the real Negan?" She whispered to Daryl.

"The one who thinks he's Fonzie."

Apparently she had drawn the attention of the man himself, for he strutted toward her.

"Rick! You've been holding out on me," he said with a shit-eating grin that made Carol's blood boil. "Daryl, you Neanderthal, where are your manners? Introduce the lovely lady."

Daryl remained stone-faced, staring silently ahead.

 _Probably figures whatever he says is going to be wrong and get someone killed_ , Carol mused.

"Carol," she said simply.

"Hi Carol. I'm Negan." He paced back and forth in front of her and Daryl. "I'm here today to correct some things and apply hand out a few Darwin Awards. Now just to make sure we're all on the same page, a Darwin is given to someone who improves the gene pool by removing him-or her-self from it."

"I don't know what you people thought was going to happen with this little insurrection. My people and I have made it very clear that we will shut that shit down."

He stopped in front of Daryl, their faces just inches apart.

"Sounds familiar, right, Daryl? I will **_shut that shit down_**. But you didn't believe me, did you, and you got that poor sap killed. You dumbasses still didn't believe me, and that stupid bitch got the pantry lady killed. And now this? Wow! You people are slooooow learners."

"And don't think I don't see you there, Dwight. I'll deal with you right after Daryl here."

Where the hell is Ezekiel? Carol tried her best to fight back the rising panic.

"Jake! Bring this piece of trash over to that recycling area. The earth can reuse him. Ashes to ashes and all that crap."

A large burly man escorted Daryl away from the others, as directed. It took everything Carol had to not grab Daryl's other arm and engage the Savior in a tug of war.

Once Daryl was in place, Negan approached him again. He placed the muzzle of his handgun against the right side of Daryl's forehead.

"I'll bet you were expecting Lucille," Negan taunted. "After what happened to her last time, I decided to give her the day off. I can take care of the likes of you with this."

Negan squeezed the trigger, and Daryl's body crumpled to the ground.

Carol screamed as her world imploded around her. Her worst fears were realized in the blink of an eye. This was the moment she'd been dreading for years.

 _In the stable as the wounded man prepared to saddle a horse and go out again. "I can't lose you, too."_

 _In a parking garage while defending her decision to fire on the man who had stolen most of their weapons. "I don't want you to die."_

 _Sitting by her fire explaining her decision to leave. "I couldn't lose you."_

And now that was exactly what had happened. Just as she'd always known it would. Daryl was gone.

Gunfire erupted as the Alexandrians reacted to Daryl's execution at the same time the Kingdom flew through the gate. The battle raged on around her, and she threw all of her rage and grief into killing as many of the Saviors as she could. She did it for Daryl. She did it for Glenn. She did it for Abraham. She did it for Sasha. She did it so that Judith and Maggie's unborn baby would have a chance to grow up.

All rationality left her. If it hadn't, she might've noticed how one-sided the battle was. The Saviors were falling at a much faster rate than her family and their allies. People were being hit, but frequently were able to shake it off and keep fighting. And now, attracted by the continuous barrage of gunfire, walkers began streaming through the gate, feasting on the injured and the very recently deceased.

( )

Near the recycle bin, lying in the grass, Daryl became aware that his head was pounding. It felt as though it might explode. He struggled to focus, but his eyes just wouldn't cooperate. The sound of gunfire, normally deafening, was muffled and distant.

He felt someone grab his arm, and forced himself to focus just enough to make out the blurry image of a walker. The smell and sound were unmistakable. Even in his diminished capacity, he managed to turn enough to kick the walker backward. It staggered, then came at him again. He tried to sit up, but the dizziness and pain in his head made such a feat physically impossible.

He saw a blurry figure shoot the walker in the head.

Again, he felt someone grab his arm. This hand felt warm, however, not cold and clammy like the other one.

"Daryl?" Dwight voice called.

Daryl grunted something in response, but it was unintelligible even to him. The hand picked at the wound on his right temple.

"Jesus, it's a dud! Wow. Can you walk? Okay, okay, gonna get you somewhere where they can't get at you."

The sensation of being dragged brought terrific waves of nausea. The dragging proceeded down some stairs, then came to a halt in a dark room. It was then that he lost consciousness for the second time.


	10. Flip The Script

Carol spotted Dwight fighting his way over to her. Her knife made a familiar sickening sound as it slid through the walker's head.

"Come on, " Dwight motioned for her to follow.

"Kinda busy here!" And between the Saviors and the walker, she was.

"He's alive!" Dwight informed her. He held up a small object. "Look at this…the bullets are duds. Negan's shooting blanks! They all are! Daryl's alive, probably just a nasty concussion."

"What? Wh…where is he?"

"I put him in the cell so the dead ones can't get him."

Carol fired off another volley of bullets at Negan's army before retreating to the basement cell.

She took a shortcut around the back of the Grimes home. It was there that she nearly tripped over a corpse lying face down. Was it who it looked like? She rolled it over on its back. Yes, it was Negan. She fired several shots into the air to draw the attention of the walkers to the fresh kill.

She found Daryl in the cell, as Dwight had promised. She gently rotated his head until she could see the wound on his right temple. He groaned meekly as he drifted in and out of consciousness. The injury was shallow, more like an abrasion. The bone below appeared intact. Could he really have gotten away with only a concussion? Certainly, concussions could be quite serious, even fatal, but this still felt miraculous when just ten minutes ago she believed his brain had been completely destroyed. She looked back at his eyes and realized he was now more alert. His bright blue eyes looking back at her were the most wonderful sight she'd seen in a long time.

"Hey," she said. "I'm here."

"How's it goin' out there?"

"Good. Negan's dead. We're driving them out."

"You good?"

"I'm good. Much better now."

"My head hurts."

"I'll bet."

"So much pressure…" Every word seemed to be a struggle for him, so she tried to quiet him.

"Okay, just rest quietly. I'm gonna go find a medic."

( )

Hours later, the last of the skirmishes had died out, and the few remaining Saviors had fled. Now began the process of clearing the bodies and tending to the wounded. Daryl reclined on a cot in the infirmary, a fresh bandage on his head. He would later recall the doctor saying something about not being out of the woods yet, there could still be brain swelling or hemorrhage, and similar gibberish, but right now all he could focus on were the positives. Negan was dead. It was over. And, wonder of wonders, he'd been right about Eugene.

The psuedoscientist now sat on another cot, having a graze on his arm treated. When he was finished, Daryl called him over.

"I almost shot you," Daryl admitted. "But I knew you had to be runnin' a game."

"I would've shot you." Carol confessed.

"I think most of us would've," Rick added. "You were looking pretty guilty. Thank you. You really saved the day."

"I was fully cognizant that I would be perceived as a traitor. It's the reason that my plan of hiding behind the trucks until my subterfuge was discovered was, in fact, not cowardly, but prudent."

Eugene caught Daryl off guard with a lively hug, then repeated the act with Carol and Rick.

"I believe this makes us officially even Steven in the life-saving department. Unless you factor in Terminus in which case I have considerably more heroics to perform to approximate equivalency. If we qualify epic rescues on a sliding scale, adjusting for the number of miscreants—"

"We're good, Eugene," Carol said warmly. "Thank you."

 _Yep, he's still the same Eugene,_ Daryl noted. _Took two hundred and eighteen words to say 'you're welcome.'_

"How in the hell did you get fake bullets past Negan?" Rick wondered.

"Proper bullets were made. Said bullets were test-fired to the satisfaction of the hooligan in charge. Roughly two hours before commencement of hostilities, a grade A-one switcheroo was initiated. I am a coward. I've freely admitted the same. Im not courageous. I'm not strong. What I am is smart. Smarter than the average bear—or Savior, as the case may be. Throw in a sleight of hand, a little smoke and mirrors and some good old fashioned ingenuity and you got yourself a recipe for a con job of epic proportions. I saw the storerooms, the lack of ammunition, and the ineptitude of the guards and fully recognized the opportunity to flip the script, slow Negan's roll, turn this predicament from futile to hunky dunky. My hope is that Abraham can be proud of me."

"Eugene? What happened with Sasha?" Carol dared to ask.

"She was captured. She fully believed that she was going to be killed., the manner of which would be more detrimental to the people she loved than her death itself. She chose not to be used in said manner."

Daryl looked to the floor. How could he judge when he had experienced those same thoughts himself?

Carol leaned over and planted a kiss on Daryl's lips, eliciting raised eyebrows from the others.

"It's about damn time," Rick muttered under his breath.

Carol ignored him.

"I'm gonna go help with the cleanup, let you get some rest."

( )

The mess in the streets of Alexandria rivaled the one left by the invading herd of walkers that followed the attack of the Wolves. It took several days to restore some semblance of normalcy. The knights of the Kingdom returned home. Plans were made to establish the beginning of free trade between Hilltop, the Kingdom and Alexandria, as well as a pact to come to each other's defense at the first sign of trouble in the future.

Carol honored an unspoken agreement to remain at Daryl's house—or rather their house. She added her own touches here and there; if he noticed, he didn't comment. It amazed her how quickly the arrangement had begun to feel routine.

As she changed the bandage on his right temple, a faint scar on the left side of his forehead caught her eye. She shuddered at the memory.

"This is the one from Andrea."

"Yup."

"Now you have a matching set."

"Might be the only son of a bitch alive to get shot in the head twice and survive. Merle always said I was hard-headed."

"So that's, what, three gunshot wounds altogether? I've only had two."

"There ain't no prize for winnin' this one, okay? Don't you try to catch up."

Carol chuckled. "Okay, okay."

"Can I come in?" A voice called from the hallway.

"Sure thing, Bestie," Daryl replied sarcastically.

Dwight stepped in the doorway.

"Wanted to let you know me and Sherry are leavin'. King Ezekiel agreed to let us into the Kingdom. We're gonna get a fresh start."

"The hell you're leavin'!" Daryl growled. "Didn't I promise to kill you?"

Carol and Dwight both stared back at him, unsure if he was serious.

"You did," Dwight nodded calmly.

"But then you came through for us," Daryl added. "Saved my ass. I can't speak for Tara, but you and me? We're square."

"New best friends?" Jokingly, Dwight reached out for a hug.

Daryl threw his arms up in front of him. "Don't even think about it. We ain't never gonna be friends, man, but we can co exist. Far, far away from each other."

"I'll take that."

"Listen, asshole," Daryl rifled through the drawer of his nightstand. "If you're serious about that fresh start, you might want these back."

He dropped the rings into Dwight's hand.

"No," Dwight drawled out, "these are part of the past. Gonna get new ones for our new beginning. Maybe you can find another use for 'em? I can make that tooth thing happen if you want."

He laid them on the table.

"Okay, okay, get lost."

"Good luck with everything " Carol called after the departing man.

Once Dwight was out of earshot, Carol turned to Daryl.

"I knew you wouldn't kill him. Not after everything he did for us."

"Because I'm soft?"

"Because you're sweet. And fair. And forgiving…"

"Stop."


	11. They're Yours

Springtime was in full bloom in Northern Virginia as the extended cab pickup truck rolled along the countryside en route to the Kingdom. Vibrant wildflowers pushed through cracks in the asphalt. Slowly but surely, nature was reclaiming the land once spoiled by humans.

Daryl was behind the wheel of the truck, with Jesus in the passenger seat. The rear seat was occupied by Carol and Rick. Ostensibly, the trek's purpose was to begin a regular trade between the three communities. Rick wasn't really needed on this journey, but he came along to speak with Ezekiel. Carol took the opportunity to see her new friends again.

Jesus' suggestion of a game to pass the time was met with a chorus of groans. "Hey, hear me out. Okay, so we're all painfully aware of all the negative things the zombie apocalypse brought us, but let's turn the tables. Let's each name something positive that has come out of all this for us."

Daryl opted to keep it lighthearted. "All right, I'll start. I don't got to worry about gettin' pulled over and the cops findin' out my license is suspended. For the third time," he confessed. He looked in rear view mirror at smiling Rick. "Ah, dammit."

Jesus leaned in with a grin. "I don't have to pay my 12k in back taxes."

Daryl high fived him . "Sweet."

Carol joined, "I was supposed to report for jury duty."

"Pretty sure the case has been continued—indefinitely," Rick guessed.

"Maybe it was Daryl's case," Jesus joked.

"Guilty!" Carol proclaimed.

The archer argued back in mock protest. "Hey, they don't use juries in traffic court!"

"You'd know," Rick grinned.

By the time they got to the third round, everyone was laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes. After so much heartache and stress, it felt really good to be able to laugh again.

The drive was otherwise uneventful and they arrived at the Kingdom right on schedule. Carol and Rick went to visit the King while Daryl and Jesus headed straight to the warehouse.

The man outside the warehouse greeted them with a bow.

"Good day," Jesus began. "We are here for bartering. I am Jesus, representing the Hilltop. Representing Alexandria, Daryl."

"Representing the Kingdom," Dwight said as he stepped into view, "Dwight. But you can call me 'D' if you want."

"Son of a bitch, I just can't get rid of you," Daryl grumbled.

"Hilltop needs toothpaste," Jesus opened the negotiation. "I have watermelons and ten chickens to offer."

"And I got coffee to put up for flour," Daryl added.

"How much coffee?" Dwight asked. "We've got lots of flour." He studied his clipboard. "I can give you twenty pounds of flour."

"Ten pounds of coffee. Sound fair? And I'll give ten to Hilltop for six of them chickens. Ain't got no toothpaste, though. We're low on that ourselves."

"Deal," both men answered simultaneously.

"I got a case of toothpaste for the watermelons and the other four chickens," Dwight said.

The wheeling and dealing continued until everyone was satisfied with his acquisitions. Daryl gave up more of the coffee than he wanted, but he figured he'd find more on a run in a couple of days. It was worth it to have fresh poultry.

They agreed to meet at the same time the following week at the Hilltop for the next round of exchanges. Daryl and Paul were loading up the truck with their newly acquired groceries when Carol and Rick returned.

"How'd you do?" Carol asked.

"Got what we needed," Daryl replied.

"You're taking your chickens back?" Rick asked Jesus.

"Those are your chickens."

"You have no idea how much I was hoping you were gonna say that," Rick grinned.

"Gonna need flour to bread 'em," Carol said.

Daryl lifted the corner of the tarp. "Right here. We're eatin' good tonight. Even got us a watermelon for dessert."

( )

The following day found Daryl winding his way along the road to Alexandria. His run had taken him to a town a little farther out than his usual expeditions, but he found several needed items. An odd clunking sound from under the car caught his ear. Then the engine sputtered and quit.

"Dammit!" He muttered as he checked under the hood.

He wasn't able to pinpoint the exact problem with the car, so he knew he would have to the rest of the way home. He wasn't terribly familiar with this area, but by his estimation, he was due west of Alexandria. It would be shorter to pass through the woods than to stay on the main highway.

He hiked through the woods for two hours before he came upon a mobile home. Curious to see if it had been looted yet, he approached the door and put his ear to it. He knocked loudly. Almost immediately he heard the telltale sound of walkers. He went to the window and peeked. Two of them. Pretty fresh from the looks of them. No problem.

Carefully, he eased open the door. Killing the walkers was easily accomplished. He went to the kitchen and started opening cabinets. It appeared as though someone had been living there. His best guess was that the walkers, a male and a female, had been dead less than a day. The male had no bites and it was likely that he had died from illness of some kind and bitten the female.

He began scooping the cans of food into his backpack. It was then that he began to realize he could hear the faint cries of an infant. _Oh shit…_

Opening the first bedroom door he came to, he found an empty master suite. The next door was covered in scratches, as though the walkers had tried to gain entry. Behind the door he found a crib with a young baby, the pink outfit suggesting a girl. She was crying, rooting, sucking on her fist. Instinctively, he picked her up and cradled her in his arms. The smell of the ripe diaper assaulted him.

"What's the matter, Sweet Pea?" He cooed. "I know, you got some problems here. But we're gonna fix 'em…"

A sound from the corner of the room caused him to spin about to see the source.

"Come on out," he coaxed. "It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt ya."

A little boy of about two years old sat on a day bed.

"What's your name?" Daryl asked. "I'm Daryl."

The boy remained silent.

"Is this your baby sister?"

"I'm hungry," the boy said. "Want my mommy."

"Your mommy can't come right now. But I'm gonna take care of you, okay. I'll get you somethin' to eat."

He changed the baby's diaper.

"Stay here with your sister."

After dragging the bodies of the parents out of the home, he scavenged in the kitchen until he found something the boy would eat.

"Where does your mommy keep the milk for the baby?" He asked the child.

"She drinks from mommy's booby," he said.

Daryl winced. Judith didn't use formula anymore and he couldn't remember if there was any left over. He would just have to see when he got there. The priority was getting the children to safety. He couldn't imagine what they were going to do with the children, but certainly just leaving them was out of the question.

"How 'bout your shoes? You know where they are?"

The boy pointed to a shelf.

He wanted to scoop up the children's clothing, but he was already going to be struggling with carrying an infant and, he figured, a toddler. He would have to come back another time and get the clothes.

Once the boy's shoes were on, Daryl took him by the hand and headed through the woods for Alexandria. The baby's crying was loud and insistent. Silently praying to himself that they didn't encounter any walkers, he finally understood what Tyreese had experienced.

Amazingly, Daryl's luck held out and he made it home without any undead interference. He arrived at the gates of Alexandria just after dark, with a crying infant on one shoulder, a sleeping toddler on the other and a backpack and crossbow on his back.

"What the hell is this?" Rosita queried as she opened the gate. "These aren't what you were supposed to be getting on your run."

"You want 'em?" Daryl quipped. "They're yours."

"The quiet one is adorable," she laughed.

Daryl knocked at Rick's door. The look of surprise on Michonne's face as she opens the door was priceless.

"Tell me you got some baby formula left," he implored.

"Uh, let me go look…" she motioned for him to enter. "Rick, you gotta see this."

Rick came down the stairs.

"I heard the crying all the way upstairs. Where did you find these little ones?"

The cop gently took the infant from Daryl's arms and tried to soothe her, "Come here, honey, come to Uncle Rick." She just kept crying.

"Without milk she don't like you any more than she likes me," the archer said as he laid the little boy on the sofa.

Carl's approach had been masked by all of the noise. He looked befuddled as he surveyed the scene before him.

"I'm gonna go let Carol know you're here. I kinda got the impression you were due back hours ago."

"Shit happened."

"I can see that."

"Seriously, where did you get the kids?" Rick asked.

"Found 'em in a house in the woods. Parents were dead. Looked like the dad died first, turned, killed the mother."

( )

Carol paced nervously from room to room, checking frequently out the windows for any signs of Daryl. He should have been back by now. The Saviors were defeated, but there were always going to be other threats. She tried to read but found she couldn't concentrate. When she realized she'd read the same paragraph four times and still didn't know what it said, it was time to give up on that endeavor. So, back to pacing it was.

The past couple of weeks had gone wonderfully. It felt as though they'd been a couple for years. With each passing day, she felt more and more like the Carol from the prison. Her need to escape into another persona had all but faded away. But now the negativity crept in; now was the time for the other shoe to drop. She was too happy and she knew that fate just couldn't let that be.

Seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to hours. Still no Daryl. What would she do if she lost him now?

"Carol?" The voice accompanied the knock at the door.

She opened it. "Yes, Carl?"

"Just wanted to let you know Daryl's back. He's at our house."

The tension left her body so quickly she thought she might collapse. But wait, why hadn't he come home? Why was he at Rick's?

"He's okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine. It's just…well, you gotta see for yourself."

Carol was totally unprepared for the scene in Rick's living room. Daryl sat on the sofa, his head resting on his palms and his elbows on his knees. Next to him lay a very young child. In the recliner was Rick who was cradling an infant and feeding it a bottle.

"Should I ask?" She questioned.

Daryl jumped up and gave her a quick hug.

"Probably not."

"Whose are they?" She wondered.

"Yours," Rick answered.

"When did I say _that_?" Daryl protested.

"What else are we gonna do with them?"

Carol took a closer look at the baby. "She can't be more than a month old. Where's her mother?"

"Dead." Daryl sighed.

"There are people in the Kingdom who would take them," she said. "Maybe we should take them there."

"Well we need to know what we're doing tonight," Rick said. "Michonne has watch and I was up all last night with Judith and her new molar."

"We can take them tonight," Carol volunteered. She picked up the can of powdered formula. "This isn't gonna last long, though. Maybe a couple more bottles."

"Ima go lookin' in the mornin'," Daryl agreed. "But it's slim pickins out there."

Handing the baby to Carol, Rick went and folded up the playpen in the corner of the living room. He passed it to Daryl.

As they headed home with the children, Carol began to question the wisdom of her decision to take them home for the night. She loved being a mother, but after three horrific losses, she was absolutely terrified to let any more children into her heart.


	12. Light At The End Of The Tunnel

Four days later found Rosita and Daryl leaving their third stop on a run for baby supplies. This stop, like the previous two, came up completely empty save for a lone case of diapers that one child was too big for and the other wouldn't grow into for quite some time yet. They'd be taking the children to the Kingdom in two days, so Daryl grabbed the diapers anyway to take with them.

He'd been somewhat reluctant to leave Carol alone with the children, not concerned on their behalf for he knew she would take excellent care of them. No, his concern was for her. The memory of her beside the fire in that little house by the cemetery haunted him; how broken, how fragile she'd seemed. To her credit, she was stronger with each passing day, apparently finally finding the line between murder and defense. They spent their days forging ahead in this new life and their nights lying together, helping each other through their individual and collective traumas. But if she were to get attached to these children and if something happened to them, well, Daryl couldn't bear to think of what that could trigger within her.

On the way home, they passed by the trailer and retrieved what meager clothing the family had for the children.

"We're really gonna need a lot more than this," Rosita lamented as they trudged through the woods on route to their car. "They're gonna outgrow this stuff in no time."

"They'll be at the Kingdom by then," Daryl replied.

"Think so? Carol's gonna keep them. Mark my words."

"Naw…"

"She will," she insisted. "She's a natural born mom. So you have a mom without kids and kids without a mom. You do the math. It's a win-win for everybody."

"She's meant to be a mom, I'll give ya that," he agreed. "But she's had her heart broke so many times she won't wanna do it again."

"Keep telling yourself that, daddy," she told him with a broad grin. "See if you can find some cigars to pass out on your next run."

He had only to go home to begin to suspect that the fiery Latina was right.

"Hi, Honey," Carol said as she threw her arms around him. One of the lessons learned of late was to never ever take a loved one's return for granted. "Find anything?"

"Not much," he answered grimly. Even though it wasn't his fault that all the stores and homes had been looted already, every time he failed to find what he was looking on a run it felt like a personal shortcoming. "Just some huge diapers. No milk."

"Luckily I was able to remember my grandmother's recipe for homemade baby formula," she said. "Annie seems to like it, but we'll need a lot more evaporated milk."

"Annie?"

"That's what I'm calling her," she responded, an almost guilty expression on her face. "Is it okay?"

"Good as any. The boy still ain't tellin' their names?"

"No."

"So…?"

"So what?"

"So what're we callin' him?"

"Jonathan," she said sheepishly.

Daryl stared thoughtfully at her for a moment. Well, he figured, might as well bite the bullet.

"They ain't goin' to the Kingdom, are they?"

Carol had had her back to him sorting through the clothes he'd brought. She turned now to face him again.

"Is that a problem?" Her tone indicated to him that she desperately hoped it wouldn't be.

"Not for me." He shifted nervously from foot to foot. "I jus' figured you wouldn't want to get attached to no more kids."

"It's too late," she shrugged. "But by deciding for me, I'm deciding for you, too, so I really need to know how you feel about this."

"I don't know nothin' about being a dad. Least I know what _not_ to do, I guess."

She squeezed back tears of joy. God how she loved this dear man.

"No one could possibly give them more unconditional love and acceptance and protection than you would."

He stirred the contents of the pot on the stove more to see what was in it than anything else.

"So now I got to start tradin' for baby shit, too."

Carol picked Annie up from her makeshift crib as the stench from the diaper wafted across the room.

"Nope. Baby shit is something we have plenty of."

"Stop."

"Well, Jonathan, whattya think?" Daryl held the shining rings in the palm of his hand.

He sat on the bed with the toddler beside him and the infant sleeping in the center. The sound of the water running reassured him that Carol was still in the shower.

Jonathan cheerfully took one of the rings and moved it toward his mouth.

"Naw," Daryl grinned as he retrieved it and handed the boy a set of plastic keys instead.

"Ya don't eat a weddin' ring. You put it on the finger of the most amazin' woman there is, the one you wanna spend your life with."

The little boy continued happily rattling the keys.

"These are used. Think she'll mind?" Daryl continued. "Listen, I want you to know that I'm gonna be the best damn daddy I can. Gonna screw some things up, but I will always be there for you and your mama and your sister."

The infant began stirring, and he picked her up. His determination to break the cycle of abuse pushed through. He was so focused that he didn't hear the shower stop.

"Don't you ever let nobody tell you they're better than you, or that you ain't good enough or smart enough or whatever. Know that you're loved and wanted all the time, no matter what."

"That's good advice," a towel clad Carol said from the doorway. Her heart swelled as she heard his words; this was exactly the kind of father she knew he'd be.

She caught sight of the rings in his hand. It was difficult to believe that just a couple of weeks ago they had both been despondent. Neither could see a light at the end of the tunnel, no carrot on the stick, nothing but more darkness and pain as they floundered about trying to wrestle their demons at the end of the world. There were nothing but dead ends in every direction.

But now, by joining together, the demons were retreating, and through the clearing smoke there was, indeed, a path forward for them in the new world.


End file.
